Estranged
by Erin Kronman
Summary: Odin's judgment strands Loki on Earth as a mortal. Loki challenges himself to "play by the rules" in order to keep a low profile, but an unexpected encounter with Rowan Fields brings him closer to accepting the rules than he anticipates. Coincidentally, they each provide something the other desperately needs to change their lives. Post-Avengers. Sequel to "Surrender". Loki/OC
1. Chapter 1: New Rules

It was nighttime in Midgard, the name Asgardians gave to Earth's realm. Loki had been sent here by Odin as judgment for his crimes both against humans and against his family. And this exile promised to be long and complicated unless he found a workaround—Odin declared Loki would show sincere compassion before returning to Asgard.

Loki's surroundings were not specifically familiar to him, but after a look around he surmised he was in the bad part of town that inevitably resulted after years of urban sprawl. He stood alone in the parking lot of an abandoned supermarket. Tall weeds and small bushes grew through cracks in the pavement, graffiti decorated the building's boarded windows, and the establishment's sign had long been taken down—just another urban ghost to be bulldozed eventually. Only one of the street lights overhead worked, buzzing and blinking intermittently. The lot was on a side street, and the only sounds of the night were crickets in the surrounding trees and the distant sounds of a freeway. As much as he despised interacting with humans, he began a slow walk towards civilization in the cool early evening breeze. He wasn't going to accomplish much in the middle of nowhere.

He found himself dressed acceptably in a dark purple dress shirt, plain black slacks, and black coat and shoes. He admired the good pair of black leather gloves that covered his hands and gave them a slow stretch. Nothing too fancy, but a relief when he knew most humans cared little for how they presented themselves. Tonight, though, he didn't want to be noticed. He only wanted to think. To think and plan.

His body ached with physical remembrance of his conflict with L'Shale, but mentally precise details evaded him. As he walked the reality of his mortality began to sink in. His eyes were not as sharp in the dim light of twilight as they should have been. His steps were not as quick and neither were his thoughts. His faculties should still be above average compared to most humans, but a disadvantage was a disadvantage. He wondered which of his skills and abilities would be affected. Magic and sorcery would obviously be out of the question as a mortal, but what of his other natural talents? His deception and wit? His intelligence, subterfuge, and strategy? He felt hollow as if his true self was eluding him, keeping its distance as he dreamed this mortal life.

His deepest thoughts and memories were in far greater disarray as if a whirlwind had accompanied his exile. He struggled to pull his thoughts together and move forward as he had done for his physical body, but it was a slow process. For blocks he could only observe his surroundings as he moved through toward sense and the city.

He passed several small houses, some inhabitable and others dilapidated. The street lights were dim and the sidewalks and roadways were riddled with cracks. Despondency hung thick in the air; this part of the city had been long ignored and avoided. Guard dogs occupied a few of the small, shoddy-fenced, debris-strewn yards, snarling or cowering as he passed. Occasionally an elderly man or woman glanced at him from a window momentarily.

Eventually events, ideas, reactions, and opinions came back into focus. But the dreamlike feeling and hollowness came to the forefront as he recalled memories. He clearly remembered the act that had caused Odin to send him here, but being divorced from the rage it should have produced allowed him to look at the bigger picture more easily rather than turn to anger over his judgment. He was always a big picture planner, even if most of his plans failed in the end. The thought stabbed him unexpectedly. _Most of my plans have failed. _His first reaction was to blame others, of course. Surely his ingenious plans were never ruined due to flaws in his own design. Or were they?

Memories washed over him in response. He thought of the tesseract, _L'Shale_, the destroyed Bifrost, and several other times in his life when he struggled for control and lost because of his own self-righteous arrogance—his "lack of conviction" as the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Coulson had put it to him_._ Objective reasoning began to guide his thoughts._ I have let my obsession for control reign over me too long._ _If I wish to break this cycle and regain my bearings, I must switch focus. I must work from another angle. What other angle is there if you are not the antagonist? _Who was he if not a catalyst for change? The other side of the coin was not of interest to him. Unbidden heroism was out of the question. It suited him poorly and was quite undesirable. But resolving not to play the villain doesn't commit you to playing the hero. Could he stand idly by and watch events as a spectator rather than choose a side? Would it be possible to lay low while living as a mortal? Playing by the rules was a novel thought, but there was usually so little reward for following rules. Perhaps he could think of something to make this growing idea of experimentation worthwhile.

After several blocks the bad part of town ended at a bridge of modern construction that spanned a decently-sized inlet. The bridge was small by comparison next to two other bridges he could see. This bridge could only admit a single lane of traffic while the other two seemed to cater to heavier traffic patterns. He crossed the old bridge below more flickering streetlights toward the city.

A few blocks past the far side of the bridge revealed the bustling downtown of a small city. This city, while busy as every city is, had a laid back feel to it. He noticed pedestrians laughing with one another on more than one occasion, and the streets were not so packed that one could become completely lost in a crowd. The oldest architecture he saw—huge, Gothic churches that could be seen from almost any corner in the city—could not have been more than a couple hundred years old, and the shallow avarice of capitalism painted every storefront he passed. _I must be in America._

Wanting a vantage point safe from interruptions, he picked a tall building at random and entered the lobby. It was empty except for a security guard preoccupied with his mobile phone and a cup of coffee. The guard looked up, and Loki gave the man a slight nod. His meaningful stride toward the elevator marked him as someone who had reason to enter a building at 7pm when all the businesses upstairs were most likely closed. The majority of simple interactions were easily mastered with confident mannerisms. His skills and their importance were coming back to him, but he felt rusty. Had his encounter with L'Shale rattled him so badly?

He took the elevator to the top floor. He then took the stairwell at the end of the hallway to the roof of the building. The view from the 20-story roof confirmed his suspicion that city was not very large, perhaps a few square miles. It was located on a peninsula that jutted into the ocean. He walked the small roof for a time before seating himself on a ledge that allowed him to view the ocean, black as it was in the light-polluted dark, several blocks away beyond a park. He could smell salt on the chilly autumn breeze. It wasn't much to look at, but it satisfied his need for peace and quiet.

_What will I do with myself while I am here? If I intend to play by the rules to go unnoticed, what could I do among humans that would not bore me to death? Who will I need to interact with? Acting as an acceptable member of human society either means securing money or securing...trust._ He had not shared his trust with another soul for a very long time. It had grown easier to manipulate others and imply trust, but at some point he always violated any trust given to him. It was necessary when yourself always came first.

Rules were there to be broken, weren't they? But keeping the rules intact was indeed the challenge he was choosing to accept. He wanted to test his limits, but dominating humans with his cunning and manipulation was old hat. He was already a large step out of his comfort zone by being a mortal. What difference does a blindfold make when you already have an arm tied behind your back? Playing as a human, no matter the humility involved, was the only way to make humanity interesting now. At the very least he might be able to gather useful information if the experience was a bust.

As he pondered on his possible plans his feelings and emotions began to check back in with him. Hatred for his father's judgment, yet shame for his betrayal against his family. The love he held for his family was a prickly thorn bush—the closer he tried to hold them, the more it hurt his cold heart. The contradiction was a central part of himself that he tried to ignore, but acknowledge at the same time. Since his time in the void it had been so much easier to hate his family, to push them away as a casualty lost to him. But he could not deny the love he held for them, bittersweet as it was. Chiefly the respect he held for his father, the adoration and longing for recognition that he kept locked away deep in the dungeons of his lonely castle, the mental sanctuary he had built for himself. Part of him had hoped L'Shale would burn the feelings from him. It would have made his life easier to operate without attachment to others. Attachment was a weakness. Yet another part of him was relieved to discover his feelings had not been touched. The love he felt for his family spanned a longer part of his life than his time spent recently as a selfish, spiteful son out to conquer the universe and make it obey him. Had he really been so reckless lately? Again the hollow, dreamlike feeling swept over him, and his thoughts drifted back to his present situation.

_I still need a reason to drive my ambition...give me focus...a reward to entice me... _Returning home and reclaiming his status was the ultimate goal, but he needed a promise of more instant gratification. As if the universe had heard his thoughts, the door to the stairwell creaked open behind him.

Loki was not yet ready to entertain company and would have prefered a little more time to mull over his plans. He pushed away the urge to "lure" the newcomer over the ledge—he reminded himself he would need to hold to more acceptable means to eliminate the intruder's presence. _Well then, time to follow some rules._

* * *

Rowan was working late tonight. Again. She'd promised herself that she would quit covering for anyone who wouldn't return the favor, but she didn't want to upset any of her coworkers. She didn't want to cause any conflicts at the small sales office; drama was much more stressful than a little lost time to herself. She cursed herself for being such a pushover, but she didn't want to look for another job. The benefits here were good even if the work was a little stressful. She hadn't asked for a raise in three years because of the recession, though. Rowan Fields had no room to grow, but felt too comfortable to rock the boat. "Bookkeeping shouldn't be so stressful" seemed to be her mantra for the past year or so.

Before she left the back office to close down the store, she noticed the cake in the break room she'd brought in this morning. She'd made it herself for one of the ladies up front—it was her birthday today—but it had hardly been touched by anyone. She wondered why she still tried. The office morale was pitifully non-existent, and that _did_ bother her. "I'll just throw it out later. Like anyone will notice," she sighed as she turned the office lights off and locked the door. The thought of keeping the cake for herself only deepened her ever-growing sense of loneliness. The feeling had steadily settled in on her since she moved out of her parent's home after college over six years ago.

Rowan justified the soul-draining day job for the past five years because she had to pay the bills. What she really wanted to do was work for herself, but it would be a long time before her self-published short stories and cookbooks could eliminate the need for a full-time job. Financial independence would take time to build given the meager earnings her works currently made. As it was now her sales could buy her a meal once or twice a month—not a significant source of income at all.

The reason behind her late shift was to guard the cash office while the showroom stayed open later than usual for appointments. She wasn't usually needed unless a salesperson happened to take payment for an order—usually the after hours appointments were just to select materials or pick out samples to take home—but the boss always wanted someone else there just in case. She was glad she wasn't a sales person. There was no way she could work directly with people for hours over something as inconsequential as interior decorating.

One of the small consolations of working in this building was the roof. The office was located in one of the taller buildings downtown, so the roof overlooked the whole downtown area. The city gave off too much light to stargaze on her late nights, but it was a quiet place to think or write undisturbed. She headed to the roof after work a few times per week, late shift or not. And that's where she headed tonight before going home.

Most of the other offices in the building were closed by this time of the evening. If their lights were on it was usually for the janitors and service crew. No one else visited the roof that she knew of. It was her private sanctuary far away from ledgers, frivolous customers, and office politics. Up there she wasn't a bookkeeper, pointless problem solver, or restless soul. She was just Rowan.

She climbed the last set of stairs to the roof and pulled her jacket tightly around her before opening the door to the breezy rooftop.

When she came out onto the roof tonight, though, she was not alone. A sullen looking man sat at the edge of the roof feet from her usual overlook. She could see part of his face, but he seemed to be focused on the cityscape, lost in his thoughts. His appearance was plain as far as she could tell in the dim evening light coming from the rest of the city. His straight black hair touched his shoulders, and he wore a black coat and slacks—possibly tailored, but she couldn't tell for sure.

_Oh, no. I hope he's not a jumper._ She paused, frozen at the thought. Cautiously she crossed the rooftop to approach him quietly, but then realized she should announce her presence. She didn't want to frighten him and be the trigger of a tragic accident. She opened her mouth to speak, but the man spoke first.

"I am aware of your presence. Go away." The man sounded as sullen as he looked, but he didn't sound like a man contemplating suicide. Irritation touched his words, but he tried to hide it beneath nonchalance. His voice possessed a proud tone and cadence that would have been enchanting in a more normal situation. It held a quality worthy of Shakespeare and fairy tales, not a sound usually heard in the middle of a modern city. A classically trained actor might speak with such a voice... _But he is no actor._ The thought came to her so quickly that she had no time to question the judgment.

She hated small talk. She felt fake and wasteful each time a random encounter with someone started with a chat about the weather. Nothing pleased her more than to answer truthfully when she was asked the culturally ubiquitous "How are you doing?" It was a break in the social norm to do so, but she always felt better when the questioner was able to answer truthfully as well. She aimed at making the few conversations she got into meaningful ones. But contrary to her values, a situation like this was best handled carefully.

"I haven't seen you up here before. Do you work in this building? I work on the 16th floor at Coastal Shore Interiors," she made it to within several paces of him, but paused when he turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of his eyes.

Even in the dim light she felt the full effect of his piercing gaze; his green eyes held a look full of countless emotions. Hatred, disdain, depression, confusion, need. It was overwhelming, and her breath caught in her throat. "I'm here to think, not prattle on with a sorry excuse for a life form." He turned his attention back to the cityscape in a less angry, but far from relaxed state. "I suggest you leave," he added firmly as he rested his gloved hands on his knees.

Knowing she could not be the source of his ire, she contemplated how to proceed. _How in the world do I respond to that? Certainly I can't take that personally._ She shifted her stance to look more open. Her arms had been crossed to her chest holding a notebook that contained her writing, but she let her arms drop to her sides. She asked calmly, "What's wrong? I'd be happy to just listen if that's what you need." She continued to walk towards the ledge slowly. This time he did not reply, and he made no move. His attention remained on the city below them.

She wasn't sure why she felt the urge to stay rather than leave as he suggested, but it had to do with his voice. He was telling her to go, but he needed someone to talk to. She heard it in his voice and had seen it in his eyes. She was no therapist, of course, but she thought herself proficient at helping others. She had a way of understanding all angles of a situation and helping others to make decisions. It was a skill she loved using, and regretted that her day job couldn't make use of it. No one asks a bookkeeper for meaningful help.

Rowan took a seat with her legs underneath her a few feet away from him on the ledge. She set her notebook down behind her and turned to face him. "I can help if you talk with me," she spoke softly, but her tone was firm.

He looked her over quickly, measuring and weighing her worthiness to be spoken to as an equal. After a brief flash of regret he sighed impatiently, "You couldn't comprehend me much less help me." _Too prideful to ask for help. And he thinks I am worthless. Wonderful._

"Well, if that's the case then I'm going to work on my writing. If you want to talk, I'll be here for a while." She retrieved her notebook and opened it to a lengthy story she'd been editing for far too long, but couldn't bring herself to finalize. Her perfectionist streak caused many hesitations in her creative works. She figured he would either come around and speak with her or leave. She did not feel intimidated by him. She was quite interested in finding the cause behind the torrent of emotions in his eyes, though. _I feel drawn to help him. I just hope he's not dangerous._

The two of them sat in silence for close to an hour, more than long enough for Rowan to lose herself in the complexities of character interactions and the nuances of word choice. Unbeknownst to Rowan the stranger had been watching her rather than the city. She'd been focused so intensely that she'd forgotten the man's presence until she heard him make a noise. The disruption pulled her back to the present situation, and she stared at him for a moment. _Did he just laugh? At what? Me?_

"The faces you've made this past hour have been very amusing. What _are_ you working on so intently?" He was no longer angry, only inquisitive, but an underlying tone in his voice demanded that she answer him without question as if he had some authority over her. She certainly felt the need to answer him. His glare could put a rock at ill-ease.

"I'm working on a story—a book I want to publish," she replied in a more relaxed tone than his, though his comment about her making faces as she worked had reddened her cheeks a little. He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Would you like to know what it's about?"

He considered a moment, the slightest twinge of interest appeared and vanished in an instant. His reply was rushed and cold—a door slam, "No, I do not care to know. Whatever you miserable people waste your time on matters not." The condescending tone was back, and he waved dismissively at her as if there was no hope for the human race. _Why is he afraid to talk to me yet he sat here for over an hour? What is this guy wrestling with?_

"Look," Rowan snapped her notebook shut in irritation, "If you don't give a rip about humanity, that's your prerogative, but you could be a little nicer since I made an effort to reach out and help you. Some people would gladly watch you jump off this building; they might even give you a push and cheer for you on your way down." As soon as the words left her mouth she knew she'd been too harsh, and she winced at the thought of what she'd said. _I'm letting his attitude get to me. Patience, Ro. Patience._

The man chuckled bitterly and smiled to himself. He adjusted the way he was sitting to cross his legs underneath him to mirror how she sat, and he rested his head against several fingers of his right hand, "Oh, you would cheer my fall with them if you knew the truth of things..." he mused quietly to himself and pushed the hand at his temple through his hair. A pained look crossed his face as unknown turmoil rolled within him, but the emotion quickly vanished from his face. _He's lost. This man is lost and has no idea what to do._

"What truth?" Rowan was honestly interested. She was so close to getting him to talk. She wasn't about to quit now.

He turned his gaze upward into the empty black sky, and he continued to think aloud quietly to himself, "It does no good to dwell on fancies. The past is past and cannot be changed." His quiet thoughts were not for her ears even though she could hear him. He returned from his inward reflection and eyed her sharply, speculatively, "You'd think me mad," he chuckled.

"Try me. Or..." she hesitated, nervous that she would make a fool of herself, but she pressed on still confident that she was supposed to be in this situation. "Or I can read you myself if you don't want to share." Reading others excited her to no end, but she tried not to pry unless she asked first. Not everyone appreciated her ability to "read" others. Who wants to be told that the secrets they keep hidden are in plain sight to her?

"Read me?" He smiled slyly, his composure completely regained in an instant. "Oh, I would hear what you can read of me." The stranger turned himself to meet her eyes more easily and folded his hands slowly. His gaze was expectant even though he held an otherwise straight face. "Do share."

Rowan had never met anyone like him before, but she could pick up on him well enough. She'd always had a knack for reading others—she wasn't sure what it was, intuition she assumed—that allowed her to sense feelings, moods, and minute changes in body language. She was a barometer of behavior when she tuned in to it. Most of the time she ignored it, though. It was useful in knowing when to avoid the boss because he's having a bad day, but what good was it to recognize that the woman in front of you at the store was cheating on her husband?

"I've been picking up your subtle cues this whole time, but now that I stop and put them together, I have a fair idea of what's going on with you. You talk with an air of entitlement, but your frustrated manner suggests it's been stripped from you. But you aren't some fired CEO or a rich kid tossed out on his ear. Your speech is so anachronistic—you're old money or...royalty?" She waited a moment for his response, worried that her assumptions might be incorrect.

His eyes did not waver from hers. "Continue," he bade her firmly.

"You've been cut out; you're stranded. At first I thought you were a jumper. People with the look you have in your eyes don't sit on rooftops to think happy thoughts and make positive life choices. But you aren't at the end of your rope, either. You might be lost, but you're much too confident and collected to be suicidal. You're planning, searching for what to do next." Again she waited for his response, but this time he made her wait a long moment. She was anxious for his approval, to know that she had read the signs properly. Her hands began to shake, but she steadied them by gripping her notebook tighter.

"Not at all incorrect," he approved idly as he broke his stare and searched her face over, "if a bit general. How do you know I am not something more...dangerous?" He flashed her an enticing smile. "A criminal? Perhaps a murderer pondering my next victim?" He looked her up and down with a more discerning gaze in an attempt to unsettle her—a predator and its prey.

"You're no murderer," she answered instinctively. "At least, you aren't right now." Her conscious mind cringed at her casualness, but again, she trusted her instincts. _I am supposed to be here. I can feel it, and I will go with it._

"How would you know?" He replied with increasing interest. "A psychopath has no connections to humanity. Men are simply puzzle pieces to be played and knocked over," he looked over the edge and smiled, "or pushed over. How could you know what I am capable of simply by observing my solitude on a rooftop?"

Rowan paused for a moment to consider what she might be walking into. _Maybe he really is crazy...but he doesn't seem dangerous. He's all talk. He's only playing with me. Has to be a defense mechanism._ She stammered, not able to put her feelings into words so quickly. She expressed herself so much easier when she could write instead. "I...just know. I can't explain it. Honestly." Against all sense she asked in a serious voice the first question that came into her mind, "...Who are you?"

* * *

Loki's mind raced with excitement. The possibilities that lay with this girl... _Surely this should be my reward. To watch her roller coaster of emotions: irritation turned to fear and confusion, then perhaps I will secure her adoration. Or perhaps—_ He stopped the thought before it continued any further. His plans were to play nice for a while. And if he intended to fully appreciate his experiment, then it was best to begin immediately. His heart sank like a cat being scolded for playing with a mouse. When someone asks who you are, you aren't supposed to don an elaborate fake identity no matter how amusing or beneficial it would be. You tell them the truth. _This should be interesting in itself, though. Certainly the truth will be too much for her, and she will leave me be._

"Well...if we are going to have an honest conversation, I will tell you the truth. I am Loki, god of deception and mischief," he answered casually as if he were discussing shoe sizes. "Well, former god, I suppose. My father Odin has banished me from Asgard to live here in Midgard. I have been stripped of all my powers and must live here as a mortal. Odin says I may return to Asgard when I've learned to act with...compassion." The word seemed a distasteful concept to his vocabulary, and he uttered it grudgingly.

He peered down at the street below. Everything was so insignificant from 20 stories up. Street lights illuminated couples walking to dinner, groups of college kids caroused and bar hopped, and the faint melody of a jazz saxophone could be heard a few blocks away. The breeze had picked up, but the cold did not bother him.

The girl's expression was skeptical, but by her voice she wanted to believe him, "Loki. The trickster of Norse mythology?"

"Indeed. We are one in the same." Loki adjusted his gloves needlessly rather than meet her searching scrutiny of him.

She shook her head slightly in amazement, but continued to recap aloud thoughtfully, "And...you've been exiled. To live as a human. To learn compassion." The girl nodded slowly, no doubt reconciling her observations with his story, "I see...my name is Rowan. Rowan Fields. I'm just a bookkeeper, but I love to write and cook in my free time. It's nice to meet you, Loki. Thank you for being honest with me." She gave him a small smile, but he only returned a skeptical look of his own.

"Do you not question my identity? Or do you think me mad after all?" _That amount of frankness should have caused her to leave before I pushed her off this rooftop._

Rowan shrugged, "You declared your honesty. Why would you lie to a stranger sitting on a rooftop with you?" She paused and laughed when she realized her choice of words. "Although, if you are, or were, the god of deception I guess lying _would_ fall under your purview. But..." She looked him over again with reluctant acceptance, "I know you aren't lying to me about who you are." She looked at the notebook in her hands and turned it over as she continued. "I come up here to be myself, not someone else. Maybe you did the same."

_This girl is either lonely, unbelievably gullible, crazy, or perhaps all three. I could have told her anything I wanted, but I chose honesty. I had better not regret this... _But...she had been right. He couldn't deny his reason for being on the roof. Loki surrendered a smile and sighed, "You're right. I did come up here to be myself. To figure myself out, actually. It has been an odd day." He felt something at his admission, a lightening feeling from within himself. He felt relief. It was as if she stood beside him to aid in shouldering a burden. It made him feel more vulnerable than he already was to trust someone with the truth, and the feeling was tenuous at best. The burden they shouldered threatened to crush them both now—he felt beholden to talk to her for a while longer. He thought he should have an urge to leave, to walk away from this situation before it became a bigger commitment, but somehow he knew he had made the right decision to be honest with her. He kept his guard ready to put into place just the same.

Rowan checked her phone for the time. "Hey, I love spending time up here, but the wind's getting a bit too cold for me. Do you want to go somewhere warmer where we can talk? I'll buy you some dinner if you're hungry."

There was little need for Loki to weigh his meager options. "I suppose there's not much else I can do right now. Dinner would be much appreciated."

He understood her feeling of "just knowing"—he felt it, too. He had already acted so out of character, yet he felt correct in his decisions so far. This hollow, dreamlike feeling, though...he would know if he was being controlled, wouldn't he?

Rowan smiled, "Great. We can go to a little place a few blocks from here. It shouldn't be busy since everyone else will be out and about on a Friday night."

He couldn't help but be intrigued by her "reading". Most humans had little skill of picking up on subtle hints much less ignoring them by choice. She was unlike any mortal he had encountered before, an anomaly in his equation. Her intuitive nature was not unlike the way he operated, yet she showed caring and patience where he only prized cold logic and self-preservation. This girl, Rowan Fields, was different indeed. Reward or not, she had very much piqued his interest. And he intended to follow her down this rabbit hole to see where it went. _What a delightful tangent to study. _

"Excellent. Let us go, then."

* * *

**Author's note: I'm very excited to post this first chapter of my sequel to "Surrender." (It's not necessary to read "Surrender" to enjoy this story, if you were wondering.) This story will further explore Loki's mental shifts and character development as he explores his thoughts and emotions while he is mortal. And we will be following Rowan's growth as well. :)**

**I love reviews and feedback, so don't be shy! Please let me know what you think!  
**


	2. Chapter 2: Logic vs Instinct

Rowan and Loki descended the stairway and elevator down to the lobby of the building. As they walked toward the exit, the security guard, Joe, arose from his desk and walked over to meet them at the large glass doors. He was an overweight man in his middle years, yet he moved well enough for his hired position. He nodded respectfully to the both of them with a smile.

"So I see your friend caught up with you, Miss Rowan. Have a good weekend, now, and stay warm. It's supposed to get colder tomorrow." Joe smiled again and opened the door for them.

"Thank you, Mister Joe. I'll see you next week." Rowan smiled kindly at the man and exited the building. Loki followed, and Joe locked the door behind them. He always knew when the last person was gone from the building. And he always told Rowan the weather. If she had an uncle, she'd want it to be Mister Joe.

Together Rowan and Loki walked three blocks to a cozy little restaurant—Etta's. A plaque at the front of the establishment claimed the restaurant was named after the family's matriarch, Henrietta Ackerman, who opened the diner in 1962. It had 8 tables and a cramped kitchen area. The place was family-run with a simple menu of sandwiches and Southern American staples, but the service was high quality even if the food leaned toward the unhealthy side.

They took a small table next to the front window. Rowan began to glance at a menu, but food was far from important to her even though she knew she needed to eat something. Rather than narrow her meal choices, she instead watched Loki meticulously remove his gloves. He tugged at each finger deftly before pulling them off completely and tucking them away inside his coat. Rowan admired his quick, slender hands over the top of her menu and wondered what skills they were meant to perform. She could easily picture him confusing others with sleights of hand or wielding sorcery and daggers with equal adeptness. But she dared not ask him about it directly—what would he think of a grown woman's daydreams?

Neither one of them spoke until they had ordered their late dinner. Loki chose the soup of the day and a hot cup of coffee while Rowan's lack of physical hunger caused her to pick the first item she looked at, which happened to be a basket of chicken tenders. Any other day she would have worried herself over eating so greasy a dinner as fried chicken and french fries, but fretting over the nutritional content of her dinner seemed ridiculous now that she knew mythological gods were real.

"So how long have you been here on—what did you call here? Midgard?" Rowan watched the passers-by and smoothed the napkin in her lap unnecessarily to avoid Loki's gaze between sentences. She wanted to keep her composure, and his eyes were unsettling if she had no words to focus on.

"Yes, Midgard. It is what Asgardians call your realm of Earth. I arrived only a few hours ago. I have been here many times before, but never like this. I've never been so unprepared with so few resources available to me." He peered into his coffee mug, possibly wishing for a stronger drink.

Rowan was captivated with this man—well, this god who was now a man, assuming his story was true. He looked so broken, and she wanted to help fix him. _But how can I help someone like him?_

"So...do you have any plans?" Rowan poked at the lemon wedge in her water with her straw—another excuse to avoid meeting Loki's direct attention.

He again had that searching look on his face. She could see it from the corner of her eye. He spoke thoughtfully, carefully picking his words, "Perhaps...but I am still making considerations."

Despite her sincere wish to help Loki, Rowan realized she didn't really know what she was trying to get herself into. She was assuming he wanted to repent and learn compassion to appease his father, Odin. But this man had been the god of lies for a very long time. Why would his tune change just because he was stripped of his powers? Who would know if the god of lies was telling the truth? Had her intuition been correct with him or could it be thrown off? A seed of doubt took root, causing her to second-guess her dinner decision. She felt a pang of worry deep in her stomach. _We may be having two different conversations if I'm not observant enough._

She went out on a limb and asked him to clarify, if he would dare. The worst he could do was get up and leave, right? "Are you going to satisfy your father's wishes or defy him further?" She did not avoid his eyes this time, and he gave her a sharp look that chilled the pit in her stomach. "I was only curious," she stammered defensively.

Loki's stare softened, and he glanced down at his coffee mug again. The proper words seemed to come to him slowly, his frustration minor but plain, "Neither. I am...on hiatus. You have my apology should I sound vague or abrupt. I am not accustomed to discussing my true desires with others." He stared out the window and sighed. His eyes looked toward the passing cars and pedestrians on the sidewalk, but he was a million miles away. She almost missed his anger compared to the near dejected look he wore now. Had she really caught him off guard? It seemed improbable to her that a former god could stumble over his words while talking to a human, yet there he was, reaching for the right words to express himself. _This truly is a man out of his element...unless he's playing me. Damnit, why did he have to be the god of deception?_ Her intuition felt fuzzy and uncertain, like events were still up in the air. Perhaps they were.

Even after Rowan had admitted that she believed Loki's story, a voice in the back of her mind had been skeptical and attentive. It analyzed every word Loki said and every action he made. It was waiting to be convinced. It wanted him to make a mistake so it could announce him for the fraud he was. His story was impossibly absurd, and that little voice wanted to see his charade fail. The only way she ever quieted the nagging voice was with scientific proof.

Yet outwardly it was in Rowan's nature to give others the benefit of the doubt. She wanted to believe that others always had good intentions. It was a contradictory and disastrous pairing. Her heart was usually burned for it, but it was just the way she was; she couldn't deny her instincts for long. She hoped Loki wouldn't take advantage of her sincerity, but in the back of her mind she knew it was a possibility if she tried to dig too deeply or trust too freely.

"I'm sorry. Maybe we should talk about something else." _What could you possibly have in common with the god of deception? Same favorite color? Perhaps he enjoys knitting? Sigh..._ She struggled momentarily in the awkward silence, willing herself to speak something, anything that could bring Loki back into conversation without resorting to unnecessary small talk. "Although I hate trying to make idle conversation. It's such a waste of time. If you're going to talk with someone, it should be meaningful, start to finish."

"A respectable belief that I agree with," he stated simply. Her opinion hadn't been intended as a hint, but it opened another door just the same. Her anxiety was swept away as the flow of conversation fell back into place smoothly. "Rowan," It was the first time he had said her name, and she quite enjoyed how it sounded in his voice. "Please forgive me for my attitude up on the roof. I am out of my element being a human, and I was unsure if I wanted to talk to anyone. It is a new experience for me, being so universally disadvantaged."

"Everyone has their reasons, and I had no reason to take offense. Consider yourself forgiven," she smiled at how easily she could forgive him. She spoke the truth, and it felt good to be on positive terms.

"I don't think I've ever met a human as patient as you are. I cannot understand how we can be here sharing a meal when I tried to run you off. It is against sensibility. As if it was destined to happen..." he trailed off, possibly realizing as Rowan had that the conversation kept pointing back toward an unseen force.

Rowan followed the idea. "I felt an urge to help you, so I stayed. I knew you needed someone to talk to. Intuition can be pretty powerful when you listen to it and follow through." Again, Rowan's words spurred him to continue, the unseen force pulling their conversation along to necessary points.

"Could I ask a favor of you, Rowan?" He looked a little perplexed that he had even spoken, but waited for her answer.

Her heart skipped at the sound of her name again, and the skeptical voice immediately chided her. _Oh, don't be a silly girl, Rowan Elizabeth Fields! You don't really know this man! _She kept her voice steady, though. "I'll do what I can. What is it?"

"I need somewhere to stay..." She sensed where this was going, but she waited to hear him ask rather than interrupt, "but I do not know the area, obviously. I would be grateful if you could help me secure living arrangements." It visibly pained him to ask for help. He really was a fish out of water.

The wheel of coincidence continued to turn. "Actually...my roommate and I have a spare room that we've been trying to rent out for the past two months with no luck. You're welcome to stay there if you like." Already worked into a fury, that little voice screamed at her offering. _Are you insane? You are inviting a stranger into your home! _But she ignored its protests. Her instincts still said she was on the right path_._ Although she added in a rush, "If you can't pay, you can help out around the place, and I'll call it even." She hated asking for money or exchange of value when she felt like she was only doing a favor, but in the case of renting a room, she knew that it was only proper to expect compensation. _I was just lamenting that useless room earlier today. Maybe this will be one less albatross around my neck to worry about if he can lift a hand more often than James does._

Loki smiled genuinely, his voice relieved. "How oddly fortunate... Thank you very much, Rowan."

She hoped she wouldn't regret her decision, but it all felt so right. And her intuition rarely failed her.

* * *

His unexpected meeting with Rowan hadn't gone as it should have—at all. She was supposed to be offended by his rudeness and leave him alone. She wasn't supposed to wonder who he was. She wasn't supposed to care. Sensible people left rabid dogs alone; they didn't reach out to pet them and take them home. And that was the problem with her. Her sincere manner was a rarity among humans of her time. She didn't seem to be bothered that his story should mark him a madman and get him picked up by the authorities—she only cared about whether he was being honest or not. She forgave his anger easily like she had known him for years. He found himself speaking to her before his thoughts were finished, and it was unnerving to his sense of logic. _She definitely complicates my plans._

On the several block walk to Rowan's apartment Loki reflected on the evening's events and observed Rowan silently as she described her perspective of the neighborhood to him. She detailed which restaurant sold the healthiest pizza, where to find interesting used books, when to people watch in the nearby park, and the nicknames she mentally used for all the various personalities she encountered daily—the "basket lady" who walked to the Old Market each morning, the "Jazz Man" who played requests on his saxophone for spare change, and "Billy Shakespeare" who recited classical poetry to himself as he wandered the streets.

He understood that her monologue served to put her nerves at ease, but he stopped listening to her actual words after a time. The hollow feeling had reasserted itself in him, and rather than push it away, he tried to let her voice fill it. He took in all the excitement in her voice, the passion and fondness that she felt for living in this place. The exercise failed when he realized the feeling had not passed—he was a bucket with a hole. _She speaks as if she has not seen another soul for ages. A girl in her own world. I wonder why she is so lonely if she can read others so well? Would that not be a useful skill?_

The downtown residential neighborhood was filled with older homes reminiscent of a more sophisticated time in the city's history. Palm trees, pineapples, and crescent moons were tastefully-worked decorations seen everywhere from wrought iron fencing to flag pole finials to transoms over doorways. Many alleyways and older streets were paved with cobblestone rather than asphalt. Loki could appreciate this part of town much easier than the tourist-laden area they had just come from—put too many humans together, and they are no better than sheep. He would have admired the opportunity to shepard before, but now he would rather have time to himself. Time to pursue other endeavors.

Rowan only ceased her rambling once they reached the door of her apartment. The small entryway did not leave much space between them. "Oh no, I haven't even thought about what I'll tell James, my roommate. He's a pretty accepting guy, but..." Rowan glanced up at Loki doubtfully. He was at least 8 inches taller than her. "It's your choice if you want him to know who you really are. I can tell him you're a friend who's down on his luck. He'd be fine with that, and he probably wouldn't ask any more questions. Well, not any _important_ questions. What do you think?"

She looked up at him again, her head cocked questioningly. The dim hallway light behind him made it easy to see her face, and for the first time he took a moment to examine her features. He saw she wore no makeup, which he recalled was atypical for a young, human adult female—perhaps she was not yet 30 years of age. She was of average build and average appearance—far from beautiful, but neither was she unappealing to the eye. Her wavy hair was a boring shade of medium brown and fell just past her shoulders, but her eyes were what caught his full attention. _Those blue-grey eyes...deep as an ocean...filled with a longing...for what?_ He cut off the thought when he remembered she was waiting for his reply.

"Whatever you think is best, Rowan." He gave her a small nod and another one of those tiny smiles. He was thankful the light behind him would have overshadowed his awkward staring. Hopefully she thought his pause was for thought.

Rowan opened the door, and Loki followed her into the small second-floor apartment. The common area was modestly decorated with a chair, couch, coffee table, and television. A black laptop computer sat closed on the coffee table along with several books of various sizes and age and a small stack of mail.

"You can hang up your jacket here by the door, if you like. Please, have a look around while I check on James." She walked through the common area and called further into the apartment, "James! Are you home?" There was no response, and she disappeared further into the apartment.

Decoration was sparse, but one of the walls was lined with several bookcases filled to overflowing with books. Loki was thankful of his time spent studying Midgardian Literature. It had been far from extensive, but he knew enough to recognize what he saw on her bookshelf. A quick scan revealed the prevailing themes were classics, cookbooks, psychological studies, and science fiction.

Loki walked into the kitchen as he took in the remaining details of the apartment. If the rest of the apartment was drab and cluttered, the kitchen was immaculate by comparison. The counters were spotless and every item had its place. A peek into the cabinets revealed the same state of organization among the cooking supplies and pantry ingredients. Loki nodded to himself in approval. He appreciated efficiency. A note posted on the fridge caught his eye as he made his round of the kitchen.

"It seems James will be in late tonight," he called to Rowan. "He took Rob to a movie."

"How did you—" Rowan walked into the kitchen and saw the note as well. "Oh, well that explains his clean room and the air freshener. He must plan on bringing Rob home afterward. At least your room is next to my bedroom and not his." She suppressed a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. A shiver ran through Loki at her touch. _Fool, she's just a girl. Nothing to jump at._ He blamed the reaction on his lingering anxiety and shook it off.

Rowan showed Loki the rest of the apartment, ending at his room. "The previous tenant was nice enough to leave the bed and dresser since he was moving out to get married." It was older furniture with a sturdy, but well-worn look. "The bride already owned the furniture she wanted. I think she would have thrown this stuff out if he tried to bring it with him." She laughed a little, and he couldn't help but smile with her. _Why does she influence me so? It is as if her mood is contagious._

Rowan walked toward the door to leave as she rambled, "Well, I guess I should turn in. You're probably tired, and I've talked your ear off for the last half hour. And I'm sure your day has been weird enough without me. Oh, I think there might be some clothing or other things in the dresser if you don't mind second-hand stuff. I'll tell James about you in the morning. Help yourself to the kitchen if you're hungry. I do the shopping, so I don't mind. And I'm rambling again, so I'll stop. Please..." She hesitated once she reached the doorway and cleared her throat. The way she held on to the doorway magnified her reluctance to leave the room, her need to talk with someone. "Please let me know if you need anything. If you want to talk, just knock on my door." She turned to make her exit and close his door, but Loki caught her hand.

"Wait." He felt that shiver again when he touched her. And this time he also felt an uncertainty, a nervousness, but he ignored it, "Thank you for letting me stay here. I shall repay you properly somehow."

She smiled and put her other hand on top of his reassuringly, "I'm just happy that I _can_ help you." For a moment she looked thoughtful as if she would say more, but instead she only said, "Goodnight, Loki," and let go of his hand.

"Goodnight, Rowan." He closed the door behind her, and the hollowness came to his attention yet again as it had numerous times throughout the evening. Its origins evaded him when he tried to search himself for it. It truly felt as if he was not complete. He wondered if it was a byproduct of humanity. _Do all humans feel this way?_

Sadness crept into him after the hollow feeling. At first he assumed it came from his solitude now that Rowan had left the room. But when she crossed his thoughts, all he could think of was her eyes and how he wanted to study them again. What had he seen in her eyes? What did she long for? Sense spoke out against his feelings. _It should not matter. She is only a human. What is wrong with this entire evening?_

Loki sat at the end of the bed, and scrubbed his hands through his hair. He wasn't tired in the least, and now he had so much more to think about. Rowan was to be an idle diversion, but she was in actuality a serious distraction. He had been looking forward to observing her abilities and testing her limits, but instead he found himself barely able to function past instinct. Logic was difficult to grasp when he spoke with her. It was as if her presence demanded that instinct precede reason. Why would she take a stranger to dinner? And why would she offer to take said stranger into her apartment as a roommate? A stranger with his story at that? And where was his anger and rage? Where was his complete and utter disdain for humanity? The whole situation was senseless.

He entertained several possibilities for his current situation: she was a murderer, she was crazy, he was crazy, she was a trap, she was an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D. The suppositions went on late into the night, but nothing he devised seemed to fit the night's events. After pacing the room a while he finally laid down. Sleep never came, but one piece of understanding arrived shortly before sunrise.

All through dinner he thought he had been fighting to keep his few remaining truths hidden, but what he'd really been struggling with was his logic attempting to override his gut feelings. His instincts said to be honest with her and against his reasons, he wanted to. True honesty had not touched his lips for a very long time. _I could not bear to lie to her. I want to trust her. _But trust was a two-way street, and that made him hesitant. Actual trust was a weakness, he reminded himself, yet what harm could there be in trusting a human?

Her hidden complexity was practically intoxicating. Despite her unending ramble after dinner, she kept much of herself from the world, and he meant to see it. He wanted to observe more of her perceptive skills. He could teach her how to hone her abilities, how to use them to her advantage, if she would try. She was just too tempting to pass up, and he had to have her, own her somehow. But win her by the rules? Could honesty truly be an advantage? This was quite a challenge indeed._ Her trust. Being nice to a stranger is easy, but to trust another with your life... that is so much more gratifying. I will have her in my pocket soon enough. Her sincere trust will be my reward._

* * *

**Author's note: Sorry for the shorter chapter. I thought it would be best to break up certain scenes.**

**Thank you for the reviews, and please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! I love hearing your feedback! :)**

**—Erin**


	3. Chapter 3: Choices

**Author's Note: EDIT 7/26/2012 Somehow the first paragraph of this chapter was cut off from my upload, and I never noticed! Not that you couldn't assume what happened, but it has now been added back!  
**

**Thank you for the encouraging reviews! I very much appreciate every one of you who take time to read my story. Please do leave a review so I may know your thoughts!  
**

* * *

Saturday morning came, and Rowan awoke to smells of breakfast from the kitchen. "James can't cook," she mumbled as she turned over to see that it was 7am. "Maybe Rob can? I hope there are some eggs left." She rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom to wash up.

When she entered the bathroom she couldn't help but stare at herself in the mirror. Her eyes shot wide open, and she braced herself against the vanity as the previous night's events flooded back to her attention. Rowan flexed her grip on the sides of the sink in a concentrated effort to make sure she was really awake. Her thoughts paralyzed her in a temporary panic. _Am I remembering last night correctly? Did I really meet Loki, the man formerly known as the god of deception, on a rooftop? Did I really believe his story and take him to dinner? Did I really give him my spare room because it felt like the right thing to do? I can't tell anyone the truth. And I never thought about what I will say to James!_

The episode only lasted a few moments until she began to move her thoughts forward rather than backward. She entertained different fabrications for Loki's story as she brushed her teeth and took a quick shower. She had been too excited the night before to give in to worry. As she paced her room and tossed in bed she had only thought about how she could help Loki and the different looks that crossed his face. She had imagined what wrongs could have possibly put those pained emotions in him and how she might approach talking to him about it.

As difficult as it was, the man needed to talk about his troubles. Rowan knew it was a delicate process, but she was confident in her ability to offer whatever help he needed. She knew she would easily adapt her interactions with him to compliment his personality—to push when he pulled and follow his lead. But it had been a long time she she had been presented with such a challenging person. What would be required of her? What was the cost of helping a man like Loki? She dismissed the concern for now. If she could do nothing else, she could help him on the path to fixing himself. That is, if he wanted to be fixed. She wasn't sure she could stand him if he did not.

She threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and towel dried her hair before heading into the kitchen. She began to admire the sun streaming in through the windows beyond the dining area when her mouth fell open in shock. Loki had been the chef cooking breakfast—by himself. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he wore a plain white apron that Rowan seldom used. He had toast and omelets for three plated and ready to eat at the bar as she approached.

"...You? You can cook?"

"Here, try it." He handed her a fork with that little smile of his.

"You _can_ cook," Rowan said as she raised her eyebrows and took a seat. "This is really good. Where did you learn to—"

"Internet." He cut her off with a grin. His eyes shone with the morning sun, yet the lines of his face were slim and sharp—he was not used to smiling, it would seem. "I hope you do not mind that I used your computer last night. Sleep eluded me. Wonderful place for information, the Internet. Woefully ill-managed, but that's another matter." He began to tidy up and removed the apron. "Ah, here comes your roommate."

James and Rob entered the kitchen bleary-eyed. Obviously they had been up late. "Ro, whatever you cooked smells amazing! Could you pass me a cup of coffee? _Some_body kept me up _all_ night." Rob snickered at James's comment, and Rowan rolled her eyes hoping they did not see her reaction. She wasn't very comfortable with the way James paraded his relationship about. She took no issue with his sexuality; she only wished he would be more tactful. She certainly would be if she had any sort of relationship beyond the notebook she felt married to. She didn't even own a pet to share her free time with.

The two men stopped giggling when they realized there was a fourth person present. How they missed a 6'2" stranger cooking breakfast in their kitchen was beyond her, but neither James nor Rob were the brightest crayon in the box. James glanced suggestively from Rowan to Loki and back, and Rowan's faced reddened at James's assumption that Loki must have been a date she brought home. She quickly put down the plate of half-eaten omelet to introduce them.

"James, Rob, this is...Loki, our new roommate—at least for a while." She had decided the truth, but not the details, were sufficient enough. "He's a friend of mine who needs a place to stay while he gets back on his feet. He's agreed to help out around the place in exchange for the room."

"Loki? Funny name." James scoffed, "Wait, didn't we just hear that name on Jeopardy the other day?" He was speaking only to Rob as if Loki was not standing directly across the counter from him. "Oh, I remember the answer now: 'The Norse mythological god of mischief', right?" He took an empty seat at the bar and Rob followed suit, the three of them now an audience before Loki.

"That's me," Loki grinned as he arranged their coffee cups on the counter. Rowan couldn't help but stifle a laugh behind her hand as she swallowed her food. James had no idea how right he was.

James finally decided to address Loki directly, "What's got you needing a place to stay? You get laid off? If you need a job, let me know, and I'll hook ya up with some of my friends." Rowan's thoughts were scathing. _How considerate of him._ She was feeling a particularly bad streak of animosity toward James today. How dare he embarrass her in front of their new roommate!

"Oh, I had a falling out with my father, and he evicted me from our home." Loki wiped the counter down casually, obviously enjoying a moment to placate ignorance.

"Ooh, tough. I know all about that kind of thing. My dad hasn't spoken to me in five years." Loki leaned over to wipe a stray drip from the cabinet below him. James leaned on the counter to meet Loki's eye level and raised an eyebrow. "Ya didn't come out by chance, didya?"

Loki paused his movement, understanding beginning to dawn on his expression, yet he did not answer them. Rob and James both burst out laughing while Rowan nervously watched Loki's reaction. Loki's eyes flared in irritation, but the two goons continued to cackle for a moment, oblivious to the gears turning in Loki's mind that were surely devising a counterstroke.

Rob finally decided to speak when he saw an opportunity to joke, "You know, _Loki_," Rob's voice was slightly effeminate, "I bet you were teased all through grade school with a name like that. Tell your brother Thor I said 'Hi'," and he laughed at his own excuse for a joke. Surely it had taken him the entire conversation so far to recall the name of Loki's brother. Rowan was surprised he had been correct.

Loki's face tightened, his counterstroke forgotten. It seems Rob had struck a nerve with Thor's mention. Rowan didn't think James and Rob would notice since they were too pleased with themselves and their attempted wittiness.

Only she heard Loki's quiet reply directed at the countertop, "If he ever speaks to me again." And with that Loki was done joking around. With a forced smile he changed the subject instead. "Please, enjoy the breakfast. A pleasure to meet you James and Rob. If you will excuse me, I will see you all later." He collected his jacket at the door and left the apartment. Rowan stared after him. _Should I follow him or let him go?_ She felt torn.

"Well, 'Hello, goodbye,' I guess. James, put down that coffee and try this. It's fantastic! Rowan, you _must_ have helped him. Men that good-looking don't really know how to cook."

James preferred to speculate on Loki's exit. "Maybe he went out job hunting. Ro, is he looking for a job? Carter is looking for some help in his warehouse, but I bet a guy like him doesn't want to lift couches all day even if it does mean a paycheck. Although I'd certainly like to watch _him_ lift couches all day..." He stared toward the door as if he was still watching Loki's exit. _Shallow morons. If they realized they'd struck a wrong chord, they'd shut up._

"He really did cook the eggs, guys. And I don't think he's looking for a job right now. I'm going to go keep an eye on him, though." Rowan threw on a jacket and left the apartment to follow Loki.

* * *

Cooking breakfast for himself had not been a big deal, though including food for everyone in the apartment had been spur of the moment. He kept reminding himself that he was no longer the only cog in the clock, and while he should have been infuriated at that, he found it was only a minor nuisance. Her surprise and glowing approval had been quite rewarding to receive, but satisfaction over something as small as breakfast was small potatoes indeed. He craved more.

He needed a bigger challenge than what he could find in that tiny apartment. But what could he do that was acceptable to these humans and a worthy challenge to him? The answer was within reach, and a walk was all he wanted to settle his mind and find it. A walk free of distraction and the bitter memories of what was currently out of reach, lost to him in human form. _Those two fools were quite amusing until they brought _him_ up._

Loki had just crossed the near-empty street when Rowan caught up to him. He easily remembered the route they had walked the night before and headed through the residential area. It would be free of tourists roaming the streets.

"Where are you going?" Rowan fell in beside him.

"Somewhere with less distraction," Loki said shortly. "I have much to consider, and that cannot be accomplished in the presence of—"

"Idiots. I know. Those two aren't very conducive to higher thought processes. I'm sorry you had to meet them at all..." She laughed, but then spoke with hesitation, "Do you mind if _I_ tag along? I hope you don't consider me part of their club."

_You are only the biggest distraction I have. Please, join me while the former god decides how he will try to be a respectable human._ The idea of playing human should have sickened him, and he kept waiting for the feeling to come, but it did not. His thought was ironic, though, because he really did want her to join him. Even though reason flew out the window when she was near him, he felt calm this morning with her beside him. _I am not used to this type of interaction. This is why I prefer nothing more than lackeys around me._ Too long it had been since he had a confidant—not since his brother and he were much younger and more naive.

"No, please walk with me. You...are not like them at all. You hold sense in your eyes."

"Good. I'm glad you consider me a higher life form." Rowan smiled and put her hands in her pockets as they walked. "We can walk through the park if we head this way. It's probably still quiet this time of morning."

They turned in unison and made their way to the park. The climbing sun felt warm in the small spans between tightly arrayed houses and trees. Elsewhere the shade was chilly, made worse by the morning breeze that swept in from the bay. They walked several blocks before Rowan broke the silence.

"You could have stepped over and talked to me last night if you couldn't sleep. I was up for a while myself."

He'd heard her pacing about her room as well until late last night. He might have been human now, but he was still more observant than most people. "I would not have disturbed your rest, though your offer was very kind." He willed himself to consider his words further, but he spoke without hesitation, "I am trying to decide what activities will provide an appropriate challenge for my abilities."

"Good idea. Did you have anything in mind?" Rowan's tone was supportive, and he found himself grateful rather than patronized.

"If it were that easy, I would be doing it already," he muttered ruefully. He caught her smirk out of the corner of his eye. Again, he was surprised at his lack of anger. Instead he smiled a little himself. Inwardly his logic felt very confused at the exchange.

They reached the park and walked along the harbor front that lined one of its sides. It was indeed still quiet with only a few joggers and dog-walkers sharing the area. Loki finally slowed their swift pace to a slower stride.

"A lot happen to you, Loki. It's stressful. Maybe take it easy for a while?"

"Perhaps," Loki sighed. _What will I do with myself? Cooking meals and tidying a living space day in and day out would drive me mad even if it did serve a purpose._

"Do you have any hobbies?"

"Hobbies?" Loki pushed away the urge to answer with his former escapades: attempts at world domination, usurping thrones, and playing allies against one another. He was taking a break from all of that, and much of it felt a distant memory anyway. Rowan had no need to know more of his past than was necessary.

"Activities that you enjoy doing in your spare time. You know most of my hobbies already: reading, writing, and baking."

His love of knowledge was something he could discuss easily, though. "I enjoy reading as well. Asgard has a great library full of books and artifacts from all the different realms. Knowledge is power, and I could surely live there if I did not feel driven to take action and apply that knowledge."

Rowan's eyes sparkled with interest, "Oh, if only I could see it! It must be incredible..." She trailed off for a moment, visualizing the great library to herself, no doubt. "What else? I assume gods do more than just read when they aren't—wait, what _do_ gods do all day? I have no idea."

Loki laughed in spite of himself. It had been a long time since he'd entertained such naivete. It was almost endearing. "Asgard is the highest realm, and we have many gods, but we value our warriors the most. Many specialists of noble birth come to Asgard to practice and employ their talents. Sorcerers, healers, and warriors of other realms flock to serve there. Asgard watches all the realms and keeps peace when needed. We help settle disputes between them sometimes."

"Mediators...but I figured _you'd_ be the one starting disputes given your reputation."

Loki sighed, "That is quite true. I usually am." They walked on in silence for a few paces as a jogger passed them. "I cannot say I regret any of my past actions, but somehow...somehow I cannot understand what drove me to commit some of my crimes. Time and distance are giving me perspective, I suppose. I no longer desire such a life." He slowed his steps slightly and gave Rowan's back a searching look as her movements lagged behind his. "Not right now." Her damp, wavy hair glistened in the sunlight. Rather than label it boring as he had the night before, he admired the way it fell. He had already determined that she didn't do much with it, but the waves alone gave her hair enough interest. Maybe it wasn't so boring after all. _There goes my sense again. What has come over me with this woman?_

She slowed to match his pace. "What about your family? Won't they miss you?"

Thinking of his family was painful. On the one hand he distantly felt jealousy, spite, and anger as he always had, but on the other hand...he did long to be home. His absolute solitude drifting in the void between realms had shaken him..._alone for so long in the deafening silence..._ he shuddered. "Oh, I cannot imagine why they would miss me after my betrayal. Asgard will certainly be quieter again without me."

Rowan halted and put her hand on Loki's arm to stop him. She pulled him to the guard rail overlooking the harbor. Seagulls and a few small boats dotted the water. The cargo ports and harbor tour boats were located elsewhere in the city. "And what about you? Do _you_ miss _them_?"

Loki began to frame his response, but the words seemed to speak themselves. "I did not expect that I would, but in reality, I do miss them. It makes little sense that they still care for me. For a while now I have been disobedient, stubborn, spiteful...you can imagine the rest of the list. I am not yet sure how we might reconcile our differences." Never had Loki spoken such feelings aloud. Normally he would have felt betrayal and anger for someone else to know his true feelings, but Rowan... it felt acceptable that Rowan should know...

"Your family wouldn't stop caring for you just because you're going through a rough patch. Loki, could you explain to me why you were exiled? I understand that you can't tell me your life story, but...If I'm going to live with you, I'd at least like to know what got you here."

"I can explain, but you may not understand completely. Other realms are far different than Midgard—Earth," he corrected himself.

"Please," she scoffed. "Give me some credit. I've stuck with you this far, haven't I?" She smiled at him and he found himself returning the smile. _Her patience is unmatched. I am quite undeserving of it._

"Alright, let us take a seat. It is quite an ordeal to explain."

Loki told Rowan of his exploits in Alfheim, and how he found an ancient staff that would allow him to charm others to do his bidding. He used the staff to ensnare his family and friends, and it had worked on them all except for Odin. Loki was able to return the staff to its home in Alfheim, but as punishment for manipulating those closest to him, Odin banished Loki to Earth. He cannot return until he has demonstrated an understanding of compassion. And that's where Rowan's involvement picked up. He omitted his resolution to follow the rules while he is human. He figured that should be obvious by now.

Rowan had been silently rapt during Loki's explanation, but now she spoke up. "That's...incredible. Magic is real... I'd always dreamed, but—but you're human now. You're no longer a sorcerer. How frustrating." Her smile drooped into a sympathetic frown.

He leaned back to examine the tree branches above their bench. "You would not believe my frustration." He began to feel expectant again, as if the conversation was taking an important turn.

Rowan tripped over her words, her mind moving faster than her mouth, "I'm just curious— But if it's too personal— You don't have to—" She stopped to let out a long breath to try again. "I'll just ask it. Do you miss Mirella? She cared for you a great deal. Enough to die for you."

"_Miss_ her?" The thought hadn't occurred to him. Sure he was thankful for her help, but miss her? Why should he miss her...? Yet again he found himself speaking before he could hold any words back.

"Part of me had hoped to see her again. To feel free and live in the moment..." His attention wandered to a few autumn leaves caught in a swirling dust devil several paces away. It reminded him of his dance with Mirella—his brush with freedom. He murmured almost too low for Rowan to hear, "I regret that I will never experience that again."

Rowan gave him a sidelong look. "Says who? You choose how you want to experience your reality, not the other way around." She smiled widely before barking a laugh, "Now only if I could follow my own advice more often..."

"Choices..." Loki mused quietly, then sighed. They both sat back against the bench, and the conversation shifted back to Loki's need of an activity. "I have too many choices. That is my conundrum."

"Well, let's approach this differently. What do you hate to see more than anything else? What do you wish you could change whenever you see it? You don't have to answer right now, just think about it."

Loki's focus became clearer with his explanation, "There is no need to ponder further on that. It is a simple question to answer. I despise broken systems and inefficiency. Nothing irritates me more than to see a wasteful distribution of energy whether it be a corrupted regime, poor battle strategy, or misuse of resources. Understanding the capability of all parts involved is essential. After that it is only a matter of employing the pieces properly to accomplish the desired task." Namely his own desires in the past. Would he still work only for himself?

"I'm sure you could apply that to something here. It sounds like a very useful, all-purpose ability."

"Indeed it is. I have always thought myself best fit to fix things, but many disagree with me at times. People take offense when you try to fix things they believe to work correctly already. Many people in positions of power are quite stubborn, human and otherwise."

"Then avoid them and help people who _do_ want to fix things."

"How would I know who needs my services?"

"That I don't know. I think that's the limit of my brainstorming." She fluffed the back of her drying hair with her hand then crossed her arms in thought.

They sat together in silence for a time simply watching events around them—squirrels searching through fallen leaves, seagulls coasting on the wind, joggers passing through, boats out on the water—but rather than awkward it felt comfortable. As a youth Loki had increasingly begun to avoid his brother's company during their free time because Thor had no appreciation for silence. His brother had insisted on constant action without thought, and while such events excited Thor, it only served Loki as a reliable source of exhaustion. Loki appreciated the serenity of the great library in the same manner that Thor enjoyed a raucous tavern.

Loki found their situation relaxing and was able to devise a plan of action easily once he let his thoughts mingle. It was utterly simple once he realized what he needed to do. He would be able to use some of his natural talents after all, if a bit unorthodoxly. Reflecting on Thor's extraverted tendencies had actually been a generous clue. _Humans are too easy_, he reminded himself. _They talk too much and give away everything if you just listen._

"I have an idea, but I must go alone. I shall return to the apartment later today." He stood and gave her a small bow. A shallow one, but worthy enough for nobles at court. _May as well impress the girl if she enjoys being impressed. She deserves something for her help._ "You have been most helpful this morning, Rowan. I thank you."

Her bashful smile understated the joy he felt radiating from her. _She was indeed impressed. Good. _She stood, still looking up at him due to his height.

"Do you like scallops?"

"Mollusks? If you mean as a culinary dish, certainly. Why do you ask?"

"While you were thinking of what to do with yourself, I was thinking about what I wanted for dinner, and I'd like some scallops. I have more time to cook on the weekend. I'll make you dinner since you made me breakfast," she smiled. "It'll be ready at 7."

Loki nodded approvingly. "Very well. 7 this evening. I suppose I should acquire a timepiece while I am out."

"Do you have any money?" Rowan looked confused.

"I use a better system of value than currency," Loki grinned slyly. He turned and left her wondering. It was always more fun to leave them wondering.

As they walked their separate ways, his full focus shifted back to his plan. His stride was full of a vigor he had not felt in ages, and he attributed it to his burgeoning plan. The stage of planning and possibilities was always the most exciting. For today he was on reconnaissance, to listen and observe. He would not act today unless an opportunity presented itself. He pushed Rowan to the back of his mind, but what he did not recognize was how deep his satisfaction ran. Her happiness was not just acceptable, it was desired.

He was looking forward to 7 o'clock.


	4. Chapter 4: Acquisitions and Favors

**Author's Note:**

**I want to thank Amy for her comment reminding me that Loki's eyes are green. When I began writing "Surrender" a few months ago, I'd forgotten this. I knew Tom Hiddleston's eyes were blue, so I went with it and thought no more of it. After I was well into "Estranged" I realized my mistake, but I wasn't sure if I should go back and edit all mentions of Loki's eyes since I appreciate continuity. But since someone bothered to comment on it, it must be bugging you guys, so I'll correct the mistake. Thanks for your keen attention! :)**

**Thank you to all who take the time to read. Please leave a comment to let me know what you think!**

**I know there has been a lot of character development, and that might not be everyone's bag, but thank you all for sticking with me. Roles will soon be reversed, and the road will get bumpier for these two down the road.**

**—Erin  
**

* * *

Loki perused the storefront of a small antique shop, Oldetowne Treasures, searching for nothing in particular. He entered the store after several minutes, the front door jingled as it closed to announce his arrival. He continued to search over the merchandise in the glass jewelry case in the side counter. An old pocket watch with a bronze patina was the only appealing item among various necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and cufflinks that ranged in quality from handmade artisanal to trendy kitsch. He heard a bustle from the back.

"Well, go on, girl! I'll be out shortly," an older woman's voice from the back storeroom fussed.

A lanky teenage girl with an olive complexion, long black hair, and brown eyes approached him from behind the side counter to greet him, but she kept her distance when he looked up to face her. General bashfulness rather than specific fear was the culprit, though, as was common for adolescents of her age.

"He-hello, sir. Please let us know if you're looking for something." The girl affected a nervous smile and fiddled with her hands awkwardly.

"Thank you kindly." Loki's voice was as smooth as a fine silk. "I shall call should I need your assistance, Miss...?" He waited expectantly for her to offer her name, but the fidgety youth only stared at him in awe until he raise an eyebrow.

The girl's eyes shot open in understanding, and she squeaked, "Oh! I'm Alexis."

"A pleasure, Miss Alexis." He offered her the same half-bow he had given to Rowan only a short while before—he gestured wide with a gloved hand—in an attempt to solicit further reaction from the girl.

The girl's eyebrows climbed higher in embarrassment at such a formal show of respect. She clenched her hands into fists near her waist to keep herself from trembling. Loki mentally timed her reaction. _And she will run in 3...2... _Loki straightened to see that the girl's face had turned beet red. _...1._ He flashed her a friendly smile, and her flight back to the storeroom would have made him laugh were he not here on more serious business. He smiled to himself instead. It had been years since such harmless fun had amused him. _Scurry off, little mouse!_

There was a clatter of several items falling to the floor once the swinging door closed behind the girl, and the older woman's voice was louder this time, "You clumsy girl! Well? Was there a customer? Speak up, girl!"

The girl stuttered her apologies, "Sorry, Gran! A man— really tall— I'll pick it all up, Gran! I'm really sorry!" More clattering could be heard as the older woman stepped out from the back storeroom. She sighed and shook her head before turning her attention to her customer.

Her soft black hair was touched with gray throughout, and she had the same willowy features and olive complexion as the teenage girl—very much her grandmother. She walked over to the back counter where the cash register was located and became all smiles and sweetness in the presence of a customer. She beckoned to him, and Loki walked over to join her.

"Good morning, sir! Please excuse my silly granddaughter. She is of the age where everything means nothing and nothing means everything. Her priorities will be set straight soon enough. What may I help you find today?" The shopkeeper smiled in a motherly way.

Loki took note of the various tiny figurines arrayed in the lighted display curio behind her. "Thank you, madam. I—"

"Please, call me Lia," she interrupted.

"Very well, Lia. I came in merely to browse, but your figures seem to have caught my eye." He gestured toward the cabinet. The figures were only inches tall and made from various materials—milky white porcelain, ivory, metal, wood, and pigmented glass. All of the figures were female. Mothers, maids, queens, goddesses, dancers, and more were all represented aspects of the female form.

"Ah, yes. My little ladies. I have quite a fascination with small female figurines. Why do they interest _you_, if I might ask?"

Loki fingered his pocket where he still held the small, nymph-shaped Alfheim artifact. He hadn't planned on bartering with actual items, but now that he was a human he could not longer use the artifact's ability to appear as a mundane item. He removed the smooth, wooden nymph from his pocket and placed it on the counter in front of Lia.

"I am a collector of sorts myself, and I am willing to part with this figure if you are interested."

"Well..." Lia sighed with wonder, "She is a _beauty_! It looks like wood, but it feels like something heavier. What is it?"

"The figure is an ancient representation of a wood nymph, believed by some to have powers over nature." His explanation was not in the least a lie, although it was not the same context the shopkeeper would assume.

"Where did it come from? Do you know who made it? What is it made from?" Lia was eager to know as much as she could as she examined the figurine meticulously.

"I am afraid I was given a poor amount of information when the figure came into my possession. I know little more than what I have already told you." Also not a lie, if not the entire truth.

"I'm not sure what to offer you for it, to be honest. I've never seen anything like her before. I am interested in it, though. Have you seen any items here you'd be willing to take in trade?"

"There is a timepiece in your jewelry case that I admire, the worn pocket watch. If you find the figure a sufficient trade, that is."

"Okay, what else?" She said without looking up at him.

"That is all. Simply the watch."

Lia eyed the jewelry case incredulously, "That's it? Just the watch? Surely this figure is more than just an antique—"

Loki waved a hand dismissively and cut her off, "If you find the figure worth enough to trade for the watch, that is all that concerns me. I have no need of the nymph and wish it to fall into more appreciative hands. An appropriate watch is all I require at this time, and the timepiece I have indicated is the only item that interests me at this time."

"Well, suit yourself. If you ever need anything or have any other items I might be interested in, come back and see me. Have a good day!" Lia continued to examine the nymph and traced a finger along its curves and smooth features.

"A good day to you as well, Lia." Loki departed the shop with his new acquisition.

His next targets would receive less interaction and more observation if his plan proceeded accordingly. His goal? To listen and learn all he could of his new surroundings. One cannot make a move if he doesn't even know what the board looks like or who he is playing with—or against.

He had begun to create a mental map of the shops and areas downtown, and slowly he would drop by each of them in turn simply to gather information. He was confident the rest would take care of itself.

So on he continued to his next two stops across the street: Carnegie & Sons Computer Repair and F. Ringley Clothiers, an upscale men's clothing store.

* * *

Rowan felt almost ashamed at the small amount of seafood she ate. She lived in a coastal city famous for its seafood, yet she ate fish or shrimp maybe once per month. Maybe.

Tonight's menu was easy: Scallops and pasta in a simple cream sauce with a zucchini salad on the side. And no autumn dinner was complete without a warm dessert: apple crisp.

When evening came she easily prepared each part of the meal without referring to any recipes. They were all simple dishes she'd either made before or knew how to adapt with what she had. It was how she usually cooked and why it was so difficult for her to express her ideas to others. Unfortunately it left a lot of time for her mind to wander and worry.

_What was I thinking offering to cook for him? What if he doesn't like zucchini or thinks I'm a terrible cook? What if he's a picky eater? What if I burn something? What if—? _Her irrational worries grew as the sun sank lower in the sky.

When 6:45 rolled around dinner was complete and left warming on the stove. A few stray splotches on her shirt prompted her to retreat to her room and change. During meal prep she had mentally rehearsed many avenues of conversation—all pertaining to what kinds of activities, skill building, or jobs Loki might be interested in. She even imagined discussing personality types with him, but she decided it would be best to leave that out unless conversation happened to steer that way. Just because she enjoyed pinpointing a person's dominant cognitive function didn't mean everyone else would care to know about it.

Learning of Loki's love for fixing systems had been a big clue in piecing together a picture of his personality. She couldn't wait to hear more of his plans and wondered if she could help him with his ideas.

Her aim was to relax during dinner. James was working second shift at his second job tonight, so there was no danger that he would interrupt and ruin the meal as he had during breakfast.

She walked back into the dining area with her head down as she pulled her hair back into a less-messy-than-it-had-been ponytail. She made her way over to the cabinet to complete the last task of setting the table when she heard someone clear their throat from across the kitchen. She jumped, nearly dropping a plate.

Loki leaned against the pantry door near the table. He was wearing a new shirt, navy with a subtle pinstripe. She stood a moment and stared back at the blue-banded Pfaltzgraff plate in her hands, relieved that it was still there and not in pieces on the tiled floor.

"You really startled me, Loki. When did you come in? I didn't hear you." She quickly finished setting the table and retrieved trivets from a side drawer to hold the pans of pasta and scallops.

Loki crossed his arms casually. "I hope my punctuality has not gone to waste. Shall I return later?" He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head slightly in question. His tone was only in jest of the situation, though. He waited patiently.

"Dinner's been ready for—" she glanced at the kitchen's wall clock to see that she had lost the last 15 minutes daydreaming while she changed her shirt. "15 minutes. It's 7 right now," she declared in a deflated tone.

"And you are not ready. If you still require some time to—"

"No no, everything's good to go now." She surveyed the table, sure that she'd forgotten something, but she didn't want to delay the meal any longer than she had to.

_So much for relaxing during dinner._

They each prepared their plates and ate in silence for several bites. She was scared to ask what he thought of the food, so instead she got right down to business.

"So, what did you do all day? Did your idea work out?"

"My efforts were indeed met with success. Oh, I almost forgot." He reached into his pocket and retrieved the watch. "I told you I would secure a timepiece. I hold it responsible for my promptness."

"Did someone give it to you? You didn't have any money this morning, did you? Unless you..." She couldn't make herself suggest that he might have stolen it. She couldn't fathom housing a dishonest person under her roof. Dishonest people usually gave her a terrible gut feeling, slimy or dirty was the only way she could describe it. Loki hadn't felt that way at all, but the voice of doubt piped up at her uneasiness._ What if he did steal it? What else would a thief be capable of? And you're letting him live with you! _

"I traded for it." He seemed to ignore her implications. "I possessed a trinket the shopkeeper found interesting, so we made a deal."

"Oh..." Rowan felt embarrassed that she had doubted his integrity. She quelled her paranoia quickly and changed the subject. "What about the shirt? It looks really good. Did you trade your other shirt for it?" She joked good-naturedly.

"Thank you. And no, this acquisition was not a trade. It required a little effort on my part, but it was well worth the two hours I spent to earn it."

"Two hours? Doing what?"

"Are you familiar with F. Ringley Clothiers?"

"Yeah, I bought my dad a tie there for Christmas."

"I dropped by this afternoon to inspect their selection among other things, and I overheard the store owner's complaints. I found his complaints to be incorrect, so I made a wager with him. I won, of course."

"Oh, you've got to tell me more than that."

"As you wish. The store owner, Mr. F. Ringley, believed his lower sales figures were due to the poor economy. He blamed outside factors. But after observing his two salesmen, clearly they were the weak link. He balked when I mentioned this to him, doubting my analysis. So I wagered I could outsell the two men together. They did not understand basic rules of human interaction, so they performed poorly. I understood that a person who walks into a store wants to buy something, even if they deny it. Making a sale is simply discerning what they want, then selling it to them. Or for the indecisive ones, leading them to what you want to sell to them and allowing them to believe what they bought is what they desired. I easily outsold the other two men within a few hours and won the wager. This new shirt was my reward."

"What would have happened if you lost?"

"I had no intention of losing," he remarked simply as if he was telling her that water was wet.

"Well, no one ever _intends_ to lose," she laughed. "What was his part of the bet?"

"I offered to purchase a suit should I lose. He had no reason to question if I possessed the proper currency to fulfill the wager. My confidence implied I could easily procure whatever I desired from his store. I would not have made the bet if there was a chance I would lose."

She wondered if he used such tactics when he spoke with her. Such cold tactics. She shivered at the thought and pushed it away so they could both enjoy the rest of dinner.

* * *

Sunday passed more lazily than Saturday, and on Monday morning Rowan awoke easily. Loki was already awake as well, she wasn't sure if the man actually slept. She enjoyed a quick breakfast that she cooked herself this time before heading off to work. As she walked to work, though, her heart sank. Heading back to work on Monday after a good weekend was always difficult, and this had been the most significant weekend she'd had in years.

Her day at Coastal Shore Interiors dragged on endlessly. She had no desire to be there and would have probably taken the day off if she didn't have so much to work on. Friday's stale birthday cake had to be thrown away—it seemed as if she'd baked it ages ago. Her life had changed over the past three days, and there was no way everything was going to fit back together the same way. And she knew more would change before it settled again.

After a few days they fell into a silent evening routine. Following supper she usually sat in the living room chair and Loki would take the couch to read or research. She usually wrote in her notebook, but she had also been working her way through a collection of writings by Friedrich Nietzsche.

Through the next week Loki, now occupied with his new focus, kept most of their discussions to practical matters. While Rowan was at work during the week Loki busied himself with tasks she had constantly put off such as reorganizing the kitchen, bookshelves, and office space while he was at the apartment. She still wasn't sure exactly what he was up to when he went out during the day.

During the second week he upgraded Rowan's computer. When she asked how he'd gotten the parts, he explained that he'd helped a repair shop downtown by streamlining their workflow processes. They increased their productivity by 25% so they could now help more customers. Store credit was the least they could give him in return, so he'd chosen better RAM for her aging laptop.

Another evening during that second week her neighbors Ned and Sophia, a retired couple who lived across the hallway, brought dinner over unannounced. When she answered the door, they swept into the apartment with two covered dishes and smiled broadly when they saw Loki sitting on the sofa reading a book.

Loki addressed them before Rowan had a chance. "Good evening, Ned and Sophia. I told you not to worry about that. Indeed it was nothing." Loki seemed abashed.

_What was nothing? What happened?_

"Oh, nonsense! We have to repay you for all your help." Ned shook Loki's hand and pulled him off the sofa to clap him on the back.

Rowan finally closed the door and found her voice again, "What's going on? What did he do?"

Sophia set her dishes on the table. "Oh, Rowan, your friend Loki overheard us complaining on our way in about our computer, and he offered to fix it for us for free. He found a virus and removed it. That place downtown charges you $50 just to look at your computer, and here your friend did it for free. For free! The least we could do was bring you some dinner."

"And when he was done he helped me rework our budget. I've been working on that thing for years, but now I'm saving nearly as much money as before I retired!" Her neighbor's praises sounded like testimonials from a bizarre infomercial where Loki was some popular new product.

She walked briskly over to Loki and pulled him aside. She spoke quietly, but intently, "Loki, how do you know how to fix a computer? Or help someone budget money?"

His grin cut off anything else she might have asked, "Internet. For the virus, at least. Budgeting is a simple matter of—I can explain later. For now do not be rude. We must entertain our guests, Rowan." He walked back over to Ned and left her standing by the kitchen, a picture of shock and irritation. She felt her skeptical voice chime in. _He's going to get himself in trouble. How could he know what he's doing?_

Ned cornered Loki near the balcony window, "Young man, you'll have to let me take you out golfing. You've got a great arm, there..."

Rowan shifted her foggy attention to Sophia who was now pushing silverware and plates into her arms to set the table. She was vaguely aware of Sophia pouring drinks for the four of them. She hadn't even felt this confused the night she first met Loki.

She drifted through the rest of dinner. The conversation between Ned, Sophia, and Loki felt like a dream, and she barely registered that she was eating eggplant parmesan and steamed asparagus.

_How did he learn so much so quickly? If he's really that intelligent, why is he still staying here? He could do anything rather than hang around me. _

_Anything..._


	5. Chapter 5: Uncertainty

Loki observed Rowan as much as he could, noting that her life was filled with contradictions and inefficiency. She had passions, but she did not indulge in them as much as she would like to. She loved to write and cook, but she worked a day job she hated. She didn't enjoy her roommate's company, but she wouldn't evict him. There were so many illogical decisions that she chose to live on a daily basis that were within her power to fix, but she chose not to. Why?

During the second week, it dawned on him that there was a way he could help Rowan get traction to change her situation. The biggest anchor of her stagnation sat on the coffee table when it wasn't in her hands. If only he could influence her to complete it...

Thursday evening they shared a late dinner. Rowan cooked a meal called Chicken Pot Pie. He thought it was delicious, and made a mental note of how she had made it. James would not be in that night as he had been invited out with friends. After dinner, Loki offered to help her clean up so he'd have a chance to talk with her.

"So, James is out with friends tonight," he began as he brought their dishes to Rowan at the sink, "Does he ever invite you out as well? I am merely curious."

"He used to invite me along, at first, but I never went. People stop asking when you always say no."

"Why did you always decline his offer, if I may ask?"

"He's tactless, superficial, and ignorant. He dismisses others' feelings and believes the world revolves around only him. If my only choice of companionship was James, I'd rather be alone." She vigorously scrubbed at the dirty cook pot, channeling her anger to some good.

"If you despise his company, then why do you tolerate him as a roommate? Your name is on the lease, not his, is that not correct?"

"That is true, yes, but he pays on time, and is...tolerable as a roommate," she covered her annoyance with a level voice, but the way she attacked a non-existent piece of dirt on a dish betrayed her true feelings.

"If you insist..." Loki thought it best to change the subject rather than press her, though. He had planted the consideration. That would be enough for now. "Rowan, I have been thinking about how I might repay your kindness in allowing me to live here."

Loki dried dishes that Rowan handed to him. They worked well together, he noticed. It was as if they functioned in tandem, coming to the same realizations and patterns at once. She hadn't announced her intention or told him what to do in the kitchen—they just did it.

"You've been such a help around here already. And your company has made me so—" She cut off her sentence, frozen with embarrassment. "It's been nice to talk to someone intelligent and interesting for a change," she said instead, her attention focused on rinsing the same dish three times.

_What cause does she have to be nervous?_

"I enjoy your company as well, Rowan. You've been..." He wasn't sure what the correct word was, so he elaborated instead, "You've been patient, helpful, caring, and enlightening—all unconditionally. You've been—"

"A friend," Rowan ceased her rinsing after she handed the last dish to Loki. "I'm your friend, Loki. And that's what friends do. They help without question." She turned to replace some spices in their proper cabinet.

Friendship was a good step, but he wanted more from her. He wanted her to need him. He _needed_ her to need him.

"My friend?" He acted surprised, which was not all that difficult. He hadn't expected the conversation to go this way exactly. "Why? I cannot imagine what I have done to deserve your friendship."

"Because you're worth helping; when we met you talked to me and let me help you. I want to know that you'll overcome your problems and setbacks. I'll give you the best advice I have and do what I can if you ask me. I want to—" She paused when she realized he'd finished putting the dishes away and his full attention was on her now. "To see you be happy," she finished in a meeker tone, embarrassed by her out pour.

_Happy. Is that a word I could wear?_

"Rowan, assuming our friendship is not one-sided, I would like to ask if I may do something."

Her nerves visibly jumped at the unexpected question, but she replied calmly, "What might that be?"

"I was wondering if you would let me read your story. You are aware of my fondness for books, and I am curious to know your writing."

With relief in her voice she continued to tidy resident items on the counter tops, making sure all was in its proper place. "Of course. I should have it finished in the next few weeks."

"I meant as it is now."

_Time to see what this new friendship is made of._

Loki could see her draw in on herself, assuming a defensive position. She gripped the dish towel she'd been using to wipe a counter. Her writing was her life, and he knew it. She replied in a nervous rush, "I don't know, Loki. It's not ready. I thought you didn't care for it before? This is the first you've said— Parts of some chapters are still just frameworks and outlines—I don't work linearly. And a lot of it still needs editing. And—"

"Rowan," his voice was a placid lake. He halted her anxious avalanche by placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her nervous cleaning. He gently pulled the dish towel from her grip and dropped it on the counter so he could take both of her hands calmly into his. He lowered his head slightly, attempting to look into her eyes, but she would not look up at him. He was treading into unknown territory and would need to step lightly.

"I am aware of how thorough you are with your work. I have watched you write for hours. Do you believe I sit in this room with you each evening only to read? I enjoy your company even when we are silent." She looked up at him then, and her eyebrows rose.

_Had she really not noticed?_ _Perhaps her powers of observation do not extend as far as I had assumed. Could she be her own blind spot?_

He continued, "I respect your diligence, Rowan, but I want you to know that I am interested in reading your book should you wish to share."

He couldn't push her, not yet. _If I push too soon, she will only push back. I must lead her slowly._

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with anyone reading it yet," she said more resolutely, even though her syntax wasn't. She dropped her eyes with a shuddering exhale. Her hands began to tremble, and she took them back from his grip. She then retreated back a step to put space between them. She was very unsettled indeed. _But not unsettled enough to think. Only unsettled enough to think well._

"I thought you might appreciate some feedback."

"I'm terrible with criticism." She grabbed a forgotten coffee mug to remedy her fidgeting hands as she debated, but he only waited patiently. "If I let you read it," she asked cautiously, "will you promise to read it for what it is? An unfinished story?"

"I will do better than that. I promise to hold no expectations while reading it." He gave her what he thought would be a comforting smile. In truth he could not understand why it was so difficult for her to let him read her work, but he would do what was necessary to gain her trust. He was determined to have it.

She walked past him into the living room area to claim her chair. Loki sat on the couch opposite her as they had done several times the past two weeks when they sat to talk or read quietly. The squat coffee table lay between them. She picked up her notebook from the table and thoughtfully examined its scuffed and scratched exterior.

"Why do you want to read it?" She asked timidly, her confidence hanging in the balance. Her intuition seemed to be at a loss when it came to her own endeavors.

"Why did you write it?" Loki retorted gracefully, redirecting her weak defensiveness into a point of reflection.

"Ideas just come to me, and I write them. I wake up excited to write. I daydream about what my characters would do if they were in my situations or vice versa. It's a complex, private world that I live and write in, Loki. I guess I never imagined someone would _want_ to see it even though I've always wished someone wanted to. It's kind of scary to think of letting someone in."

_She is almost ready..._

"You could have just as easily left it all in your mind if you wanted no one to know of it. You asked me yourself the night we met if I wanted to know what your story was about."

_Now._

He leaned forward and spoke kindly, knowingly, "Why write something if you will not share it?" He pushed her, confident she would submit. He had to have her trust, and that book in his hand would prove it.

Rowan replaced her notebook on the coffee table and pushed it toward Loki. "I'm afraid of what you might think—of it, of me, of everything," she said in a defeated tone. He picked up the notebook, and she calmly stood to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" he asked after her, surprised. All of his focus had been on this moment, and now she would not be a part of it. He didn't understand.

She stopped to turn off the overhead light, leaving him with only the lamp. "To bed. I don't know if you can be, but please be considerate, Loki. You have my life in your hands." And she left him alone in the living room.

After her exit all he heard aside from the silence in his ears was the low thrum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The single stand lamp behind the couch offered enough light to read by and cast harsh shadows across the rest of the room.

_Alone again. _

The hollowness welled up in him as it did religiously when he was alone with his thoughts. Sometimes it receded when he was with others or focused on a task, but he had found no pattern to it yet—its appearance was random, and its origins unknown to him. He did his best to push it away, let it sit in the dark corners of the room rather than in the lighted area around him.

He should have felt triumphant, but instead he felt the tremulous gravity of what had just happened—he did indeed hold her life in his hands. The notebook he held was a collection of her work, her dreams, for he knew not how long. Months? Years? He did not regret pushing her, though. And on into the night he read Rowan's story with increasing interest.

* * *

Rowan's feelings for Loki had been evolving. She wasn't sure when exactly she had found herself thinking of him as a closer friend than was believable. Had she really known him for only two weeks? It felt like so much longer than than two short weeks.

This evening aside, she usually felt comfortable opening up to him. He didn't mind when she rambled on about the proper technique to making certain pie crusts or the way James's poor grammar annoyed her. She also didn't mind doing nothing with him. He was content to sit with her in silence, and that was a comfort. Although she hadn't realized he had been watching her as much as he had admitted. She wasn't sure what to make of that yet.

It was as if they were old friends or perhaps an "old married couple" as the saying went. The thought of being in a relationship with Loki made her nervous, though. When you wanted so badly to help someone, was it possible to remain only an observer of their needs? Couldn't she help him more if she were closer to him? A poor counselor she would have made debating such ethical dilemmas.

As a young girl Rowan constantly had a crush on someone, but she usually kept her feelings to herself. The focus of her affections was always an idealized version of the boy, though, so most of her early relationships had been short and very disappointing. The funny guy turned out to be a womanizer, the artist was too insecure, and the skater was an inconsiderate jerk. Once she realized that she was setting herself up for failure, she tried to appreciate others more for who they were rather than what she hoped they would be. But it was very difficult when you saw the potential in others being wasted.

Her last relationship had been a short one during college with a man she met through an acquaintance. At first he'd seemed like a good match for her—he enjoyed reading fiction, liked watching quirky movies, collected swords and other exotic weapons, and affected a protective and caring nature toward her. Yet they became too close too quickly for her comfort, and his protective bent turned into suspicious paranoia. She ended the relationship after a few months when she realized he was ready to propose to her. What they had become was far from what she wanted in a life-long mate. The entire experience left her gun shy, resulting in her solitude for the past 6 years.

She had never gone so long alone before. And for a while it was nice to stretch her independent legs and discover her love for cooking, writing, and learning in general, but now she only felt like one half of a whole. Her natural skills had been languishing, but Loki had reawakened her passion for using them. She was proud of her ability to balance her intuition and logic, but everything seemed to go haywire around him. And the scary part was that it seemed right. Something about him urged her to be nothing less than her true self around him. And she hoped he felt the same even if she never heard him admit it; she hadn't caught him in a lie yet, though. Had the man ever confided in anyone before?

However, Rowan felt as though she had been run through a wringer tonight. How had she gone from a relaxing dinner to absolute fear? She laid on her bed for a while, not caring if she fell asleep in her clothes. She was terrified that she had handed over her notebook to Loki. It hadn't felt wrong, exactly, just terrifying. It had been so long since she had stepped outside her comfort zone. From the time dinner finished her heart had stationed itself in her throat. He had known just what to say to unsettle her, and she wished she could push the feeling away. But all she could do was wallow in it.

_Why did this have to happen on a Thursday? I'll wonder all day tomorrow what he's thinking as he reads my writing. MY writing. My characters, my lives. I created them, and they have created much of myself in turn. He won't understand that aspect...will he? Why did I give it to him? _She wasn't sure what he would make of her writing, and the anxiety brought her close to tears before sleep took over.

Rowan cursed her extremely uneventful Friday at Coastal Shore Interiors. She had hoped for a busy day to take her mind from the knowledge that her book was in Loki's possession. And her story was now a part of someone else's world, not just hers. Sharing her story should have excited her, but it made her nervous to know that Loki wanted to read it. A great pit laid in her stomach all day long until 5 o'clock came. She decided to head to the roof for a few minutes just to relax and collect her thoughts before she went home to Loki's assessment.

When she stepped out onto the roof, she was shocked to find Loki standing there waiting for her.

"I knew you would come up here, so I decided to meet you rather than wait for your return home."

"I would have liked a little time to collect myself..." _There he goes, unsettling me again. I know that he does it on purpose, but... _

But she couldn't stop him. She didn't want to stop him. He was changing things she knew needed changing, but the entire process was too disorienting to form a true opinion yet. Was this a good change or a bad one?

"I am reminded of a night two weeks ago when I felt much of the same. I have now caught you unawares, so we are even." He smiled, and she felt her nerves melt. How did he do that to her?

They both took a seat on the ledge, the setting sun behind them. She couldn't help but look at him in a different light even before he'd given any comment. He had read her rough, unfinished work. He had seen into her imaginings and plot lines. He had been there, inside her world. He'd seen the imagery and metaphor, the personalities and possibilities.

And he had come back to her with a smile. That was a very promising sign.

"Well, don't make me wait any longer. What did you think?"

"It is not the style of fiction I typically indulge in, but it has much potential. Your characters feel very real and your insight is genuine. The main characters are very much aspects of yourself."

Rowan's heart beamed. _He _did_ understand!_ She tried to contain her elation, but failed when she spoke more excitedly than she had intended, "I'm so glad you noticed that! I was worried you might not know enough about me to understand, but—."

"But I told you that I have watched you, so of course I understand." His smile was warm, and if they had not been sitting on a roof ledge she would have reached out to hug him.

Someone finally understood her. It was a small thing to understand a connection between a piece of work and its author, but it was a small thing that could be built upon.

_And now for the hard part. I should get it over with._

"Did you have any other opinions? Or...suggestions?"

"Actually, I think your story has greater potential than you realize. Once you complete the final chapters, all it requires is a small amount of editing to polish the overall feel. Why have you not marketed your shorter self-published works on a greater scale? Or perhaps pursued a larger publisher to reach more readers?"

_How did he know anything about—? _But she knew the answer to that question..._Internet._ _Why do I keep falling for that? Any intelligent person can look something up._ Fear began to creep into her core again. Last night's defensive terror gripped her from within.

"I've tried," she lied poorly. "And I don't have an agent so I can't even begin to think about approaching a large publisher."

"Then secure an agent to deal with them on your behalf." His explanation made it sound as if she should have thought to do it ages ago.

"But— But I don't know how to do that!" Her irritation was reaching a tipping point, but he continued.

"What did you do last week when you bought an unknown vegetable at the market on a whim?"

"I looked up how to prepare it. But cooking is so simple. I don't know anything about how to deal with an agent—"

"Was cooking always so easy? You can research anything, Rowan. And you can ask others for their experiences."

"But what if I get into a poor deal?"

"Only make a deal that you agree with completely."

"But what if I keep getting rejected from publishers?"

"What does an infant do when he wants to walk, yet he falls constantly?"

"What? I don't know!" She balked, looking away from him in frustration, but he did not speak. He waited patiently for her to come around. It took a few moments for her to settle, but she finally realized what he was trying to do for her, and she proceeded humbly. "He just keeps trying?"

"Yes. Stop making excuses for yourself and take action if you wish to move forward. All is unknown until you step into it. Failure can happen. Learn from it and move on." His voice firmed, and he looked a little frustrated himself, but not at Rowan. Perhaps he was reminded of his own failures.

For a moment silence held, waiting patiently for the two of them to get on with their conversation.

"There is another proposition I wish to make, if you would consider it objectively."

Her skeptical voice chimed in this time in irritation, but she ignored it. _No! Every time he—!_

"Okay."

"Let me be your editor."

Her eyebrows climbed. "Are you serious?" _He can't be serious!_

He continued before she had a chance to talk him out of it. "Hear me, Rowan. You need a second set of eyes to correct mistakes you might miss. And I possess a perspective outside of your inner world. You need to know that your story looks as you intend."

She crossed her arms, holding herself in before she let out a long sigh. "You've got a good point. But editing can be difficult. And you'll have to work with me. I have the last say."

"I am willing to undertake this project, Rowan. I would not have suggested it otherwise."

"And there's something else. You'll become a part of it, too. More than just reading it would do. It won't just be mine anymore." The thought saddened her, but she knew it would have come sooner or later.

"That is what stories are meant for, are they not?" He smiled knowingly, a sage imparting his wisdom.

She felt awkward that the tables had turned once she handed over her notebook. Until then she had been the one to offer probing questions and suggest ideas. She had been the stable one. But now Loki was pushing her and offering his help to enable the actions she was hesitant to take. She never knew she could feel so vulnerable. She never realized she stood on the cusp of achieving everything she wanted.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Events great and small are about to pick up speed, and other familiar faces will be showing up soon!**

**—Erin  
**


	6. Chapter 6: Scratching an Itch

The contrived notion that Loki could possess Rowan's trust like a bauble faded away the night he read her book. It was replaced with an urge to help her succeed, to help her take necessary action. Hence his offering to edit her story so she could increase her odds of securing an agent.

Loki had genuinely enjoyed reading her book which was a pleasant surprise. He remained objective, of course, but he respected her more now that he understood her creativity. Her use of metaphor was exact and appropriate. Her character development was deep and believable, not overwhelming or excessive. And her story was well-paced. He could not understand why she was reluctant to promote the fruits of her labor when they were of a very good quality.

He couldn't help but see her differently now.

In his eyes she was now a creator in her own right, worthy of his respect and attention. But was her book the only cause for his heightened admiration?

Rowan's consent for Loki to become her editor had brought about a sudden accountability that she had not known before. Completion of her book became a goal in sight rather than a hobby. By the end of the weekend she had finished the remaining chapters so they could both take on the task of editing and polishing.

Most evenings they met together in the living room to discuss certain passages and points of continuity. Loki usually worked into the night after Rowan retired to her room. In truth he slept little. He didn't require as much rest as most humans, and he tried to avoid the troubling dreams that his mind conjured. He often fell asleep to find himself back in the void between realms where he had drifted in solitude for an unknown amount of time—the place where his inner demons ran rampant, where his madness was born.

He gave his corrections and suggestions back to Rowan promptly each morning for her approval, and after only two weeks he convinced her to begin her search for an appropriate literary agent.

Loki did all this while still maintaining his "day job" of dropping in on local businesses and observing their inner workings. He particularly enjoyed the shops that went out on a limb to try his theories and suggestions. Usually they entailed anything from off-the-wall advertisement ideas to suggestions for cross-merchandising. Once on a whim he suggested a new slogan to a shopkeeper. The rhyming was cliche and ridiculous, but the owner lit up like a light bulb and ran with it immediately. The man was eternally grateful as all of Loki's growing fanbase was.

But something was missing.

The hollowness came upon him more intensely lately—the empty, dreamlike feeling of being separated from part of himself. He had found no way to abate or cure it. It weighed upon him heavily.

The challenge of fixing others' systems wasn't enough.

They offered only temporary satisfaction. He had no greater goal to work toward, and it made him itch. Helping Rowan out of her stagnation and watching her succeed would surely be fulfilling, but it wasn't the same as an active personal goal.

He had her trust now, of course, yet it hadn't yielded the sense of accomplishment he had expected. Instead the advances in their relationship—their friendship—had been much more subtle, comforting, and natural. And overall he felt satisfied with events as they had occurred, odd though they had been.

But his feelings hounded him.

He wanted more than friendship from her, but he was unsure how to broach the subject. He had taken lovers into his bed several times before during his time as a Prince of Asgard, yet they had all been strictly physical encounters—playthings and machinations of noble intrigue. Those situations had been easily planned and executed without much effort. Never before had he felt so compelled to be wholly close to a woman much less confess his feelings to her.

He needed to take action before the itch became unbearable.

* * *

The rest of Rowan's month was both dizzying and intense. Loki might not have been a people person per se, but he networked effortlessly. Everywhere he visited he made friends and collected favors. The bookstore, the thrift shop, more than one high-end boutique, the pet groomer, numerous restaurants in the area—every business for several city blocks knew Loki after a few short weeks. And given his repetitive references to Internet usage, Rowan had no clue how much he might have been accomplishing through those means. She was scared to ask.

She found it complicated yet rewarding to work with Loki as her editor. She wasn't sure what hiring a professional editor would have been like, but she was thankful for Loki's objective viewpoint. He was adept at tweaking details in passages to more accurately portray the feel of a chapter or section. But she always worried that his objectivism might disrupt areas she otherwise thought were perfect as they were. Several of his edits had done this, and she had to reject almost every correction he offered from one evening's work. _He must have had an off night._ She'd thought to herself.

She enjoyed spending her productive hours with him, yet on the other hand she missed the personal talks they used to have. She wanted to finish her book, but she wanted to spend time with Loki as well—just the two of them with no book in between, only conversation.

At night during the short time before her consciousness drifted to sleep she sometimes imagined Loki in extravagant situations such as ballroom dancing or committing roguish pranks. He was always smiling and laughing, and that is all she ever remembered of the fancies during her waking hours. In reality his genuine smiles were few and short-lived. She could tell when he was only using emotion for politeness or leverage—at least she thought she could. His tumultuous past had laid upon him a large weight that he tried to bear alone. She wanted to help him carry it or rid himself of it, whatever she could do. Their relationship—their friendship—had its grounds in personal matters, and she had tried to approach his issues as a friend or counselor and keep as objective as she could.

She kept telling herself that this was the appropriate course to take, but it wasn't what she wanted.

One thankfully quiet Friday evening that Rowan did not have to stay late at work, she occupied the sofa alone, the drafts and notes of her story spread out around her and the coffee table like a whirlwind had come through. The only noises were the cars on the street outside and the occasional shuffling of sheets and pen scratchings. James had gone out with Rob, and Loki was out as well. She received a text from Loki after work—of course he had secured himself a phone by now from helping out the local electronics dealer.

His text had read: _Out for a pickup. Be back later_. She was curious, but she didn't ask him to clarify what he meant.

Rowan was so engrossed in the minutiae of corrections that she barely noticed the front door admitting someone. Her sense of time had vanished within the flow of work. It could have been James coming in late for all she knew.

The time, in fact, was only 8pm. And the figure who entered was Loki. She looked up, papers in hand, to see him dressed in a black tailored suit. A deep green scarf around his neck brought out his green eyes, and his gloved hands held a black cane and hat to complete the look.

For a long moment she only blinked. She had to jog her memory to recognize that the man before her was the same one she knew. Loki took pride in his appearance, and would never be seen in anything less than finely cut clothing, but he had confessed weeks ago that a full suit wasn't very practical for all of his daily walking. Why was he in one now?

Next, the rest of Rowan's senses took over, and she actually realized he was standing before her in a well-cut suit. "Whoa...what's the occasion?"

_He looks...good. He always looks good, but...tonight he looks really good._

She'd given up asking how he acquired new things a while back since he was always just "being compensated for some help." If she hadn't started checking with the shopkeepers herself, she'd have thought he was a drug dealer. But he was just the poster boy for bartering.

"A special dinner," he grinned broadly as he sat down on the opposite side of the sofa, tossing the hat onto the coffee table. It landed in the one spot devoid of papers.

"Oh..." Rowan's heart sank. _I know he's met a lot of people, but... He's going out to dinner?_ She hadn't considered that he might become interested in someone. He had seemed so focused on keeping himself busy, and he never talked about being interested in anyone beyond doing business with them. "With who? Is it...business-related or—?"

"With _you_, of course. Who else?" He stated obviously. "Put away your work. Get up, get dressed, let us go." He nodded toward the door.

She gaped. "What? I never eat at fancy places! And I certainly don't have anything nice enough to compare with what _you're_ wearing!" She sank further into the couch, hoping it would swallow her. The papers around her were a barrier she tried to hide behind.

"Nonsense, Rowan. Go get ready." He motioned toward her room with his cane. A smile hid somewhere in his expression, but Rowan was too worked up to notice it.

"Well, where are we going? The Greek place? The French one?" She crossed her arms, hoping it was all a big joke she could expose.

"Bartoli's," Loki answered casually.

Rowan sat up straight. "The Italian place? The girls in the office say you have to wait weeks to get a table there on a Friday. Believe me, they go on about that kind of stuff all the time."

"The owner says I am to come by whenever I please, and he will always have a table for me."

Before she could stop herself she said, "And what did you do for _him_?"

"I optimized his stock portfolio and a few other things," he smiled and her heart melted. His eyes, the soft scarf, his sleek gloved hands... _Why is everything a man does magnified by a good suit? I won't last the night if he keeps smiling like that._ With effort she brought herself back to the discussion at hand.

"I really have nothing to wear, Loki." She left the couch to pace the room, papers tumbling to the floor. The situation made her terribly anxious. "You know that I don't get dressed up. I don't even wear makeup. I don't feel comfortable with the whole decadence thing. It's just not me."

He peered at her calmly, "Just go take a look in your closet. I shall await you."

"Fine."

With a small huff Rowan consented and left the living room for her bedroom. She stared at the door to her closet in despair before she opened it. She had a pitiful selection of clothing. T-shirts, slacks, jeans, a few button-up shirts, and the token dress for weddings or funerals were all that she owned. She rarely shopped for clothing or shoes. She hopelessly ruffled through the meager single rack all the way to the end where a black dress and a pair of black boots were tucked away in a dry cleaning bag. Her nerves squirmed in alarm.

_I used to play dress up, but this is terrifying. Is this a date? Did Loki just tell me we're going on a date? Or is it just dinner?_ She hated being uncertain. And surprises were the worst kind of uncertainty. She much preferred having a hand in planning her outings.

She changed into the dress, marveling at the near perfect fit of it. She never found dresses that fit so well off-the-rack, which was part of the reason why she did not buy them often. Her hips had always seemed at odds with her chest and waist. She had an hourglass figure, always needing her waist to be taken in or chest or hips to be let out. She had recently visited an alteration shop to take in a pair of her slacks. She could have done it herself, but she would rather leave sewing to a pro. She smiled wryly at herself in the mirror, realization dawning.

_Oh, Loki. Is that where you got my measurements?_

She arranged her hair the best she could and searched beneath the bathroom sink for her emergency stash of makeup. She might never wear it, but she did know how to use it tastefully without making herself look like a clown. Her hands shook as she tried to line her eyes, and her heart crept further into her throat with every detail she finished—powder, lip gloss, necklace, bracelet. She tossed a few essentials into a small black purse she had to remove dust from and returned to the living room.

_Please don't let me make a fool of myself._

* * *

Rowan returned after fifteen minutes in the little black dress and calf-high black boots he'd put into her closet earlier today. The little old lady who ran the alteration shop had a good eye and a kind heart. When he told her that the dress was intended for Rowan, she nodded in understanding and adjusted the dress with no more than a smile and a wish of "Good luck, young man!"

Loki stood from the couch and retrieved his hat, then he couldn't help but admire Rowan for a moment. The dress had a wide boat neck which accentuated her slender neck. The boots had a tall, wide heel to them. Her hair was parted off-center, and her long bangs were twisted and held to the side with a silver clip. She wore a plain silver locket with a matching chain bracelet he'd never seen. Probably some old gift hidden away in a jewelry box. She claimed she only wore jewelry if it held a significance. Perhaps a future purchase was in order.

_I knew she could be beautiful on the outside. Quite beautiful indeed. Why does she not like dressing well?_

Loki opened his mouth to compliment her, but she spoke over him, "So is there a reason you're taking me to dinner?" Rowan fidgeted with the small purse she held, but she spoke confidently enough.

"Certainly. But I should think it obvious."

"What's obvious?"

"You secured an agent this week. That is an occasion worth celebrating."

She had been so wrapped up in completing her edits and worrying over details that she had begun to ignore the big picture. He wanted to pull her nose out of her work for one night at least. He wasn't the type to interrupt earnest efforts toward a future goal, but reflection and rest was necessary to promote creativity—she had been running herself ragged. And there was something more, of course. He had missed her attention the past couple of weeks. Even though they had worked together to complete edits on her book, it was far from the more personal focus their friendship had started with.

Her intensified focus on the book with the intention to finish had been his plan, but it had also backfired—he was jealous of the attention she now gave it instead of him. He found the thought ridiculous, but true none-the-less.

"I suppose so. But that's already a done deal. Now I'm trying to finish all the rest of the writing and preliminary editing. I don't really have time to go out for dinner." As if to reinforce her excuse, she bent to tidy the papers she had knocked to the floor upon her exit.

"I share your sentiment. But you deserve an evening out. You do like Italian, do you not?" He gave her a worried frown, feigning disappointment at her snub.

"Oh, of course I do," she replied abashedly. She let the papers in her hands drop to the coffee table in a heap.

He felt no sympathy for making her feel guilty for taking his dinner plans for granted. He wanted to see her relax. He wanted her to talk with him. And for that to happen she needed to extract herself from her work for a while. It would still be here upon her return.

They walked the several blocks to Bartoli's, and the pair of them received the occasional comment from passers-by. Loki gave them a smile with no effort, but Rowan was now the one out of her element. She was not used to being scrutinized so much and studied the pavement or fiddled with her bracelet as they walked.

Once they reached the restaurant the pair of them were seated quickly by the owner himself, Leo Bartoli. He was an older, balding man with prominent features and a stocky build. He wore a deep blue suit with a red tie, and shook Loki's hand vigorously. He seemed an excitable, outgoing man.

He motioned them to take a seat at a small, secluded table lit mainly by candlelight. "Mr. Loki! I'm glad you took me up on my offer. You will always be welcome here after all your help! And who is this lovely lady who accompanies you tonight?" He held Rowan's seat for her to sit down.

"Mr. Bartoli, this is Rowan Fields."

"It is a pleasure indeed, Ms. Fields. Both of you, please enjoy whatever you like tonight on me." With a broad grin Mr. Bartoli left them with menus and their waiter.

Rowan gaped after the owner and waiter had left them to decide on their entrees. "Anything we want for free? It just doesn't feel right. You must have done more for him than you implied."

"If you must know I looked over his budget, helped him negotiate better prices for some of the ingredients he imports, and a few other things behind the scenes that had been causing him a lot of stress. Simple optimization. Nothing difficult. He is a high-strung man who recently lost his right-hand man, so he was in need of counsel that I graciously provided." The waiter returned, and they ordered their meals.

"But how do you do it? Whenever I go to my boss with improvement suggestions I get shot down. He thinks it's my way of telling him that he's doing a poor job of running the place."

"You do not _tell_ them what to do. You discover what they want to change then show them a way to change it while making them believe it was _their_ idea. I used to take it too far... make them do _my own_ bidding... but now I am content to only challenge my abilities."

"Is everything just a challenge? Don't you care that you're helping others in the process?"

"A byproduct, of course. I understand that, but it is not my focus."

Rowan's tone became hopeful. "Loki, don't you realize what's happening? You're an inch away from feeling compassionate. If you can feel good about helping others, then your father will let you go home."

"Home," Loki spoke flatly. The word had come out of left field. He wasn't ready to discuss this, not yet. "I do not ever wish to return to Asgard, Rowan."

Her expression was surprised, confused, "...Why not?"

Loki avoided her eyes, "We shall speak of that later. Our food is here."

The rest of dinner's conversation was about the food and finery of the restaurant. Rowan kept referring to the waiter as "Mustachio" since she didn't catch his name when he had first spoken it. Loki encouraged her to address him as "Mustachio" directly, but she turned beet red at the suggestion. He rather enjoyed the lure of innocent fun, but resisted the urge given that this was a complimentary meal.

After dinner Rowan wanted to go for ice cream, cold weather be damned, but she insisted on changing first. After getting into a pair of jeans and out of the makeup, she felt more like herself. She didn't mind skirts or dresses, but fancy clothes plus a fancy restaurant was draining to her. Loki changed as well, but only at Rowan's request. He rather liked looking "sharp" as she had described it. Appearance was important when exuding confidence to others.

"So, what made you decide that you want to stay?" They strolled through the empty park, eating the ice cream they had picked up on the way there. Most everyone downtown was enjoying their Friday evening indoors. Their only company in the chilly evening were the crickets.

Loki sat down on one of the benches, and Rowan took a seat next to him. Loki's nerves quivered, but he ignored them to summon as much logic as he could. He most certainly did not operate from a place of anxiety even when his reason was shoved aside.

_I have to tell her. Even if she rejects me, I have to tell her. I cannot put this off any longer._

"Rowan, I must share my thoughts with you."

"Sure. I'm listening."

"At first I tried to ignore what was happening between us. I did not want to accept it, but now I do."

She paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth, then put it back in her cup. "Do you mean that you...?" She couldn't finish the sentence and gave him an expectant look. She wanted to hear him say it.

Before he could complete her thought, a light shone in the sky over the harbor above the clouds. Lightning struck somewhere across the bay followed by a long peal of thunder. Loki groaned, "No! Not now..."

In the wake of the thunder came a man hurtling towards them. He wasn't falling, though, he was was flying. The man landed several paces from them with a loud thud, kneeling to the ground. He rose to approach them—tall, muscular, and blond hair sweeping just below his shoulders. He wore armor, a red cape, and held a hammer in his right hand. Rowan gasped.

The armor-clad man approached the pair of them smiling with a jubilant stride. He extended his arms toward Loki and bellowed happily, "Brother!" Loki's annoyance melted, though, and he stood to let his brother embrace him.

_I try to confess my feelings to Rowan, and somehow Thor shows up to steal the show. Why am I not surprised?_

"Thor?" Rowan fumbled with her ice cream and nearly dropped it before she set the cup down on the bench and stood to meet him. "Are you really Thor?"

Loki turned back to Rowan, "Thor, this is my...friend," he smiled at her, "Rowan Fields. Rowan, this is indeed Thor, my _brother_, the God of Thunder." He said brother with a friendly emphasis rather than contempt as might have been typical of him before. Despite his entrance and timing, it was good to see Thor.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Rowan Fields." He stepped forward and kissed her hand with a very charming smile. I am overjoyed to see you have made a friend, brother." He turned his attention back to Loki and adopted a more serious stance. "Father sends his regards, and I bring his glad news. You may come home. He has been watching you, and he is very proud of your actions." Thor grinned widely.

"Home..." Loki repeated the word in the same flat tone as he had during dinner. He stepped away from Thor to stand next to Rowan. "Tell Father..." He took Rowan by the hand, speaking deliberately, "that I do not want to come home. I have found a new one." Loki looked to Rowan next to him, "If she will have me."

Rowan squeezed his hand and smiled up at him in response. Relief, security, understanding, and dozens of other positive responses he had never experienced before flooded over him at the sight of her smile. His existence was validated. She had accepted him.

"Father warned me that you would be different, but Loki, I had no idea that—" Thor smiled again and laughed. "Brother, this is wonderful! You shall tell Father yourself, in person, so that he may grant you both his blessings."

Loki was embarrassed by his brother's misunderstanding, and he cleared his throat uneasily. "Thor, I want to remain mortal. I no longer wish to reclaim my status in Asgard as Prince. Please understand. I am needed here. I am...happy here," he squeezed her hand again, "and my efforts are very much appreciated."

Thor's enthusiasm faded quickly. "So this is goodbye, Loki?"

"I am certain I shall see you again, Thor. You always manage to show up at the most inopportune time." He raised an eyebrow emphasizing their current situation.

"Oh, I am sorry that I interrupted your evening together," Thor smiled again. He always managed to smooth everything over with such carefree smiles. "Father bid me to come straight away."

Loki's brow creased thoughtfully. "Thor, I am sorry I have been such a jealous brother to you. I have never given you proper credit."

"Nor I you, Loki. We have our differences, but you are my brother, and I will never forsake you. We each have our strengths. I am glad you found how yours could benefit others." The brothers embraced again. "Take good care of her and yourself, brother. If you need me, call, and I will come without delay." Thor smiled at the both of them and flew off toward the direction he had come from with nothing but a low rumble in the clouds to show for his passage.

Rowan was still stunned from the encounter, but she wore a smile. "What just happened?" She laughed nervously as her blue-grey eyes searched Loki's face for an answer.

Loki pulled her close to him, again ignoring his nervousness. Her waist felt comfortable, felt right, between his hands. The longer he held her, the more he relaxed. She hesitantly wrapped her arms around his neck, but did not protest his advances.

He leaned into her so their foreheads touched. He spoke quietly with warmth and relief, a soft smile on his lips, "I am yours. _That_ is what just happened." He pulled her closer to whisper in her ear, "You are my world now, Rowan. I love you. With all my heart I love you."

* * *

She hugged his neck tightly, taking in the moment. _He loves me. It's not just a dream anymore._

"Loki..." she breathed, "_My_ Loki...this was my dream. I didn't want you to leave me."

"I will stay with you always should you wish it."

Words poured excitedly from Rowan like a waterfall, "You've meant so much to me since you came into my life." Rowan hugged him even closer before breaking away from him to look into his eyes. "I told myself that if I was going to help you I should be here for you as a friend, but..." Her brow furrowed in helpless acceptance.

"But what?"

"But you're everything I want, everything I love. Your intelligence, your confidence, your will to improve yourself. I was smitten your second day here."

"Making breakfast had nothing to do with it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Of course it helped that you made breakfast," she grinned and hugged him around his chest.

Her lonely days were at an end.

The little voice in her head, the voice that doubted Loki's origins, was finally silent. Thor's visit had put her fears at ease.

They walked home slowly, hand in hand. All was right in their world.

"I tried to shield my feelings for you because it hurt to know that you'd leave one day to go home to Asgard. I told myself not to get my hopes up. But I couldn't stop daydreaming that you would decide to stay or take me with you or any of the other unlikely scenarios I kept inventing. I thought you loving me was just a dream. My silly dreams are usually so far from reality."

"I admit my original intentions were not to hold affection for you. I found your qualities intriguing, but now that I reflect, I believe I have admired you for longer than I thought."

They continued to compare notes and muse on their feelings well into the early morning.

After that night it seemed Rowan would have a spare room to rent once again.

* * *

**Author's Note: That's not all, folks! A time jump will take place after this chapter so we can see what happens to these two about a year from this point. I'll fill you in on relevant information in the next chapter.**

**Can Loki continue to lay low or will someone take notice of him?**

**As always, thanks for reading!  
**

**—Erin  
**


	7. Chapter 7: A Visit from SHIELD

**Author's Note: There has been a time jump, about a year after Loki's arrival on Earth. Loki and Rowan recently became engaged, and Rowan is pregnant—about 3 months along.**

* * *

"So, what do you think about all day?" Loki had a good idea of what the fawn-colored greyhound strolling at his heels would think. "'This couch is soft. Scratch my ears. Can we go for a walk? Where's Rowan?' Such a simple creature. You live in the moment and care not that the world continues to turn unless it interrupts your dinner."

Loki smiled and adjusted his hold on Athena's leash as he leisurely walked her along the sidewalk dividing the park from the harbor. He and Rowan had purchased the hound several weeks ago during the summer. She was a rescue dog—easy-going and lazy, but being a sight hound meant she had a sharp eye for small moving objects. A leash was necessary unless he wanted to chase a dog capable of running 40mph. He was thankful for the lack of squirrels in the park.

Loki strode into the park proper and admired the fountain as he passed. It had grown too chilly for children to play in it as they had all summer long; school had begun weeks ago leaving the parks and sidewalks lonely once again during the day.

Summer had ushered in a flurry of activity for him. In June Rowan discovered she was pregnant. Inwardly Loki had been beside himself with joy at the notion of becoming a father. Being a planner, he had already begun researching the best schools and educational opportunities available. Rowan only laughed and left him to it while she took time to learn about pregnancy and nutrition; she had been surprised at how little she actually knew about it. Shame on her parents for their lack of proper education.

And of course June had signaled the end of the school year which meant every public place—parks, libraries, grocery stores, and businesses—were crawling with children at all hours. Like "blue car" syndrome, it seemed every child he saw had some feature that reminded him of Rowan—brown hair, blue eyes, books in hand, mothers with children in their arms, and the list went on. His mind was gearing up for parenthood, and he couldn't help but imagine watching his own children play in this very park.

July saw their engagement as well as Rowan's birthday. Her parents had come to visit to celebrate both events together—they lived several hours away so she saw them infrequently. Her father had been quite a quick and intelligent man in his prime working as an engineer and mathematician, but in his older age an illness of memory-loss threatened to erase his cherished memories. Loki had never heard of such a malady. It broke Rowan's heart to watch the condition take her father, and it was a struggle for her each time she visited with him. Thankfully her father was cognizant enough to remember the purpose of his visit. She was scared of the day he would no longer recall her name or their relationship. Her mother was usually nitpicky and overbearing, yet she seemed to grant Rowan a reprieve given the occasion. Rowan assured Loki her mother would find some fault with him before the month was out, which she had, of course—"Why doesn't he have a proper job like everyone else? You've got to have a steady income to support a family!" Loki's income had grown exponentially after achieving the good graces of several well-paying clients—_what a rude woman for a mother-in-law!_

Had he really been here almost a year? His sense of time had changed when Odin made him a mortal. A year on Earth was not the same as a year in Asgard since time passed differently between the realms. And a year in Asgard would not age him as it had the past year on Earth as a human. Time was quite different now.

He almost had the park to himself except for another dog-walker and several joggers passing through. He let Athena lead him down a tree-covered gravel path and slowed a few paces in when he realized he was no longer alone.

"A child could sense they were being watched in this small area. May as well walk with me."

Nick Fury, Director of the U.S. agency for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division or S.H.I.E.L.D., approached him and fell in beside Loki with Athena between them. He was a tall, black man of a similar height as Loki clothed in a black trench coat, gloves, and eye patch. His demeanor brooked no nonsense.

The Director glanced down at the dog and reached out to pet her before clasping his hands thoughtfully behind his back instead.

"Beautiful dog. I wouldn't expect someone like you to care for an animal when I've seen you control and kill humans indiscriminately."

"Do leave the past in the past, Director. As for animals, I appreciate form and beauty. Hounds are poetry in motion, living artwork. And to observe their grace is quite calming." Very aware of Fury's tension, he added tongue-in-cheek, "Walk a dog, Director. You would benefit from such an experience."

Fury only glared ahead. "My profession leaves no time for pets."

Loki smiled, "I assume you have not come to discuss my taste in dogs. Why are you here?"

"I came to ask the same of you. Why are _you_ here?" Fury's voice threatened to pounce, a step away from his emotional namesake.

"I live here," Loki answered coolly. "Given your extensive resources, surely you were aware of my presence the day I arrived almost a year ago. You must have been watching me with intent or you would have hauled me in last autumn."

"Of course we've been tracking you. Thor briefed us of your situation. But I don't believe you're here just to walk your dog and edit your girlfriend's books."

"Betrothed," he corrected gently with a touch of admiration in his voice. "It would seem your files need updating. We were engaged not two months past, and we are expecting a child next spring. Director, I am just another human making his way in the world. You shall have no trouble from me," he added resolutely.

Fury chided him heatedly, "Trouble from _just another human_? _Just humans_ couldn't possibly cause any trouble, could they? Or don't you see all the problems on the news that all these _just humans_ cause?"

"Director Fury," Loki said more sternly, yet still a vision of calm. "I was rather enjoying some quality time with Athena. If you have need of me, ask. If not, I bid you farewell."

In response Fury produced a file from his coat and read a short summary to Loki, "'Loki aka Loki Odinson. Former Prince of Asgard and God of Deception. Current status: Human, Private Consultant.' What does a 'private consultant' really do, _Mr. Odinson_?" Fury's tone suggested he was conducting an interrogation rather than walking through a park on a sunny afternoon.

Unperturbed by Fury's questioning, Loki answered easily, "I am contracted by individuals or companies to improve their existing systems or assist in the design of more efficient arrangements. People pay well for honest feedback and optimization of their affairs. I am quite capable at providing both."

"And who is your typical clientele?"

"I've worked for all types: grandmothers, CEO's, entrepreneurs, soccer mothers, major manufacturers, even city governments. Working for locals grants me the most satisfaction, though. It is gratifying to see efficiency at work, even if humans are the ones executing it. And of course being respected for my prowess is pleasing as well."

"How do I know you aren't secretly plotting evil on the side in your little downtown apartment?"

Loki chuckled, "I assure you, my hatred has been well-leashed." He visibly tugged on Athena's leash with a small smile. "After battling for possession of my own mind, it has been easy by comparison keeping destructive urges under control. That which does not kill us only makes us stronger."

The reality was that he was unsure of where his madness-induced hatred had gone. Was it wrapped in the hollow void he'd felt since coming to Earth? The hollowness had lessened in strength and intensity, muffled by the new life he now prized and devoted himself to wholly. Perhaps with time the emptiness would become overgrown completely.

Fury sighed begrudgingly, "I didn't want to come out here—"

"Then feel free to take your leave," Loki interjected fluidly, but not unkindly.

"But I had to talk to you for myself. I had to know that you had really changed, that you were no longer a threat. I thought my reports had the wrong guy until your face turned up in the local paper repeatedly for helping local businesses become more prosperous." Fury stopped, taking a moment to himself for emphasis. "Loki, your skills, prior experience, and knowledge may be an asset to Earth if certain events come to pass."

_This is the moment I had hoped would never come._

Loki's hesitance mirrored Fury's, "I have attempted to lay low, Director. And while I may owe you a debt, I do not want to endanger the lives of my family. We live a content life that I would prefer stay that way." He stroked Athena's soft, short coat absently.

"It won't stay that way if our target has a hand in, quite literally, what we think he does. If you intend to put up that white picket fence and keep walking your dog, you might want to take a stand with the rest of us _humans_ since you claim to be one now. I have an offer for you."

Loki glanced out across the bay with a sigh. This space was his home—downtown, the park, his apartment with Rowan, the many businesses he'd helped, and all the friends, however casual, he'd made. All of his effort the past year would be lost, his new life would be erased.

_I will forsake all of this should I choose to become the hero... I still hold there is no reward in it. _

"What is your offer, Director? I cannot promise I will accept, but I will hear it."

"We're willing to forgive your crimes against Earth if you agree to gather information for us concerning one of your previous benefactors. You'll be able to travel and expand your business as you wish without fear of retribution as long as it's legal—live the American Dream if that's what you want. But If you don't accept...I can't promise I can hold back the higher-ups forever if they intend to find you. Here." Fury handed the file to Loki before exiting the park. "Look that over for a while and get back to me."

_What could possibly be at stake that S.H.I.E.L.D. would forgive my failed subjugation of their planet? _

Loki quickly skimmed the file. After a short biography of himself, the aforementioned newspaper articles, candid pictures of Rowan and him, and the scant information S.H.I.E.L.D. had gathered regarding the Chitauri, he saw a report of a relic that should have been stored safely in Asgard, but had gone missing—the Infinity Gauntlet.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has no idea what they are dealing with." Loki tucked the file under his arm and walked Athena back toward his apartment, toward his napping Rowan who could not know of the file's existence. Suddenly the future looked darker than he had anticipated.

* * *

Loki returned to the apartment and released Athena from her leash upon entering. The greyhound loped gracefully to the couch where she proceeded to relax across the length of it. He was thankful Rowan was in the bedroom asleep else she would have fussed at the dog to lounge elsewhere. Loki took no issue with the dog's sleeping habits, but he did take issue with Rowan's health. He had become overly protective of her since discovering she was pregnant.

Rather than rouse Rowan he went to his old bedroom that had become his office space several months previous. It became necessary to maintain records once he began to attract the attention of more high profile clients. He had donated all the old furniture to a second-hand shop and purchased proper supplies and furniture to assist his growing business. He stared at the file Director Fury had given him for a long moment before placing it at the bottom of a drawer in his desk.

_There is no reward in playing the hero. _

He left his office, Director Fury's offer buried in his thoughts just like the file in his desk. He glanced across the hallway to the room that had become Rowan's work space after she evicted James over 9 months ago, much to James's displeasure. Rather than move into a smaller apartment, they had decided to keep this one for the space it would allow them. Rowan quit her bookkeeping job once she landed her book contract and now used the room as a place to write. Her book had been picked up by a publisher after only a few months and was scheduled to be released this winter. Now she spent most of her time fleshing out short stories for a planned collection and reviewing cookbooks for the local paper's Arts section.

He was very proud of her progress and accomplishments. He had come into her life and acted as a catalyst for change and action—the very essence he desired to embody.

They shared what used to be just Rowan's bedroom. And of course Athena had claimed the living room for her own.

Just this week, though, they had decided that her office would now become the baby's room, so Rowan had begun boxing her materials to move to Loki's office. He loved the way change felt—changes of improvement, that is. It was refreshing and empowering.

Rather than return to the living room, he gave in to his urge to peek on Rowan. He entered their bedroom quietly, admiring her sleeping form as he sat beside her on the bed. She did not stir.

Only three months along, it was not outwardly obvious that she was pregnant, yet it was taking its toll on her body all the same. Food sensitivities and fatigue were in full effect, and she had been thankful to be out of her day job so that afternoon naps could easily be taken.

"Such a heavy sleeper you are, my dearest," he murmured softly with a smile. Often he talked to her while she was asleep since he slept little.

He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, imagining what their lives would be like six months, a year, five years from now. They were all brief thoughts, but each gave him a distinct feeling of pride and the promise of stability, prosperity, and happiness. The thought of becoming a father brought him near to elation and made him smile when he spoke of it to others. He would not allow his children to suffer as he had. He would not repeat Odin's mistakes. He _would_ be the father he should have had.

"I cannot imagine any other woman as the mother of my children. If you can show patience for me, I do not doubt you will show the same for our children. How many children would be best? 2? 3? I vow they shall have the best education offered. It is a shame they cannot be raised under Asgard's educators—there is no better education in all the nine realms."

He sat with her a while longer, lost in reveries of fantastic possibilities for their children. They were comforting thoughts that seemed both reasonable and unorthodox at the same time, but that was how his world of possibilities operated. It was the world in which he felt comfortable.

He finally decided to leave her to the rest of her nap while he researched for one of his client's projects.

"Enjoy the rest you can get now. Parenting will be a challenge."

The basis of their relationship was a perfect complement. Loki had helped Rowan take action to change her life, and Rowan helped Loki find purpose in his life. They had truly been fortunate to find one another.

* * *

Even though Rowan no longer worked at Coastal Shore Interiors, the two of them still frequented the roof of its building every few weeks. It had become a sort of tradition or date night, their area to relax outdoors when everywhere was busy. Mister Joe, the security guard in the building's lobby, had no problem admitting them after hours since he knew them personally.

Sitting atop the roof ledge, they surveyed the few visible stars. Lately Rowan had begun many philosophical conversations, and it looked as if tonight would be no different.

"What happens after an Asgardian dies? Is Valhalla a real place?"

"Indeed it is. When an Asgardian warrior falls honorably in battle they are ushered to Valhalla by one of the Valkyries. From there he may choose to reincarnate as a mortal, observe the universe, or watch over beings' lives."

"Can humans go to Valhalla? Can humans choose how they want to reincarnate?"

"Great human warriors have been known to be taken to Valhalla, but I do not know if it still occurs. As for reincarnation, it is possible humans may have the same choices, but I am unfamiliar with the protocol of the mortal afterlife. It was never relevant to my endeavors."

Rowan nodded slowly, lost in thought. "What would you choose?"

He found her lack of knowledge endearing, yet her question stumped him. For all his love of future plans, he currently had none beyond this life. He had no greater ambitions for the nine realms. He had no intentions outside of growing his relationship with his family and the challenges a mortal life posed. It felt more productive to narrow his focus and specialize rather than spread his attention over too great a span of time.

"For the moment," he tightened his hold around her waist, "I'm content to worry only of Rowan and Loki in this life. And speaking of this life, I have a wish that I hope you will agree to."

"Anything as long as it doesn't involve eating meat. Blech." Red meat had been off the grocery list for weeks along with eggs and chicken. He never realized one could make so many dishes using beans, but it's what Rowan could stomach, and he'd suffer anything for her—even copious amounts of beans.

"I wish for us to visit Asgard to receive my father's blessing. Even though I no longer desire my place as Prince, I feel it would give me some closure if Odin would acknowledge my accomplishments. Even after all that has happened," he paused to take a deep breath, "I am still his son."

The thought was no longer as bitter as it used to be. He could rightfully claim either surname he wished—Laufeyson or Odinson—yet since coming to Midgard this time he had chosen Odinson. Inside him still lived a young man who craved recognition and approval from his father, the All-father.

"Really? You think you're ready for that?" She leaned back against his chest, and he rested his chin on top of her head.

"Yes. I am well-adjusted to my life here. Visiting is merely a nagging feeling that I wish to satisfy. I leave it to you to decide the best time should you desire such a trip. What is your wish?"

"Are you kidding? Of course I want to go! You think I'd pass up a chance to see Asgard's great library? Or the glistening fountains? Or the royal gardens?" At Rowan's request Loki had shared stories of Asgard with her on numerous occasions. She sat up so she could face him to properly express her exuberance. "Do you think I would miss a chance to meet your mother and father? Frigga and Odin! Do you think I could bake something for them? Would that be proper?"

Loki chuckled lightly. "Such a gift from you would not offend. It is actually customary for visitors staying in the royal palace to bring a 'house gift,' and a personal gift is more respectful. So it would seem you have the right of it."

She pulled out a small notebook to scratch down ideas. "I have to start thinking about what to make. Are your parents allergic to anything? Nevermind, you can tell me later. I'll go down to the market tomorrow to see what's in season and go from there."

"We do not have to go immediately. Would you not wish to wait until you are more able to—"

"Able to eat more? Nah. Don't worry about what I'll eat. I'm worried about impressing your parents. Which fruits do they like?"

Loki only shook his head, knowing it was useless to interrupt her train of planning now that she had a creation taking shape in her mind.

In the back of his mind he hoped Fury's request could go unanswered. He would not forsake his life as it was now.


	8. Chapter 8: Threads

**Author's note:  
**

**Just a reminder that there was a time jump last chapter to 1 year after Loki arrived; this chapter occurs 1 week after Nick Fury visited Loki in the park.**

* * *

For days Rowan debated over what to do with the basket of apples she bought at the weekend farmer's market. After ruling out apple cake with frosting and apple crisp she finally decided on an apple spice cake since it would keep well during travel.

Thor arrived late morning on Saturday and met Rowan and Loki at the park as he'd met them before almost a year ago. He held a glowing, blue device reminiscent of the tesseract. They would all three need to touch it when activated to transport back to Asgard.

Loki had assured Rowan that everything would be provided during their stay, so she only need bring herself and her gift. Rowan held her cake in a portable container and walked eagerly through the park, the day had not yet taken its toll on her energy.

Thor glanced happily at Loki and his fiancee. "Are we ready to depart?"

Rowan shifted uncertainly, then exclaimed, "Wait!"

The two men looked at her in sync. Loki responded patiently. "Yes, dear? Have you forgotten something?"

"I was trying to ignore it, but before we leave for Asgard, can we go for ice cream? Really quickly? Meeting Thor here again reminded me of the ice cream I was eating that night, and now I _really_ want some. The shop will have just opened. And thinking of how long we'll be visiting without the possibility of peanut butter ice cream...I just really want some ice cream, Loki."

Thor and Loki exchanged a bewildered look that so often crossed men's faces when women ask questions that can only be explained by womanly issues.

"Certainly, my love. And I am sure Thor can appreciate good ice cream."

"I am not the food enthusiast that Volstagg is, but I do enjoy good food, yes. I enjoy good friends most of all, though. It is so good to see you, brother. Let us partake of this iced cream merrily," Thor hung his arm over Loki's shoulders with a wide grin and the three of them walked back toward the shops in the city.

Three blocks in they passed a small store that had been renovated by a new owner Loki had not yet met. An elderly woman stepped out of the shop lugging a large sign in her hands. The sign read "Aisa's Used Books." There was a ladder next to her door, but she eyed it anxiously, afraid to use it herself. When the old woman saw the three approach, she smiled and called to Thor.

"You there, with the hammer! You're a strong young man—and a construction worker, too. Would you help an old woman hang up her sign?"

Thor smiled and approached the old woman. "It would be my pleasure, madam. You two go ahead, and I will catch you up. I will not be long."

Thor set down his hammer next to the building to open the rickety ladder and proceeded to climb it, nearly falling twice. The old woman handed the sign up to him, but between the unsteady ladder and her unsteady hands Loki gathered it might take a while for Thor to finish his task. Loki and Rowan chuckled and left Thor to his rather comical situation.

Two blocks closer to the ice cream parlor they approached one of the busier intersections of downtown. They did not need to cross at the intersection, only turn right once they came to it. Loki's attention was caught by a truck traveling the way he had just come bearing a large, black label which read "Atropos." He turned from Rowan's side to stare after the truck, recalling that Atropos had been one of the three Fates in Midgardian Greek mythology.

He saw Thor approaching and waited for him to catch up. Rowan continued forward down the sidewalk without him. Her attention was fixed on the storefront next to the intersection. It was the same antique shop where he had acquired his watch, and lately Rowan had taken a liking to collecting old charms. Normally she would have gone right in, but the shop was closed this morning for an unknown reason, so today she only admired several items in the storefront display. She was perhaps 20 or 30 feet away from them.

"Completed your good deed for today?" Loki addressed his brother with a smirk, yet he stared after the truck.

"Indeed I have. Aiding others in need is paramount. What keeps your attention, Loki?" Thor asked as he arrived at Loki's side.

"A vehicle that passed. It read 'Atropos.' After 'Aisa's Used Books,' I believe someone may be sending me a message. And I am not always fond of messages."

"Atropos? Aisa? What significance do these names hold?"

"Did you not pay attention while we studied Midgardian Mythologies?" Remembrance of an old memory dawned across his face with a smile, "Ah, of course you did not. You were preoccupied attempting to win a certain wager out in the training grounds while I studied. As I recall you accepted a challenge from the Master at Arms himself." Loki grinned at his brother.

Thor gave an exasperated sigh at the reminiscence, "Indeed I did. Old Randfastr challenged me to best him using any weapon of my choosing. I could never beat him, yet he never won himself. He was an expert in defense and always managed to turn my attacks against me. He said I was a hothead."

"Every afternoon for three months you fruitlessly attempted to beat him." Loki chuckled at the memory. "Our instructor Aldrathr reported your low scores to father, and Odin's scolding was the only reason you finally admitted your loss."

Thor finally laughed at himself along with Loki. "I was much more stubborn back then. A happy memory indeed, brother. Come. Let us catch up to Rowan."

As they turned to walk further down the sidewalk, Loki remembered what he was about to tell Thor, "Oh, the mythological reference. Atropos was one of the three Fates, the life severer, of Ancient Greece. Aisa was another similar concept, fate personified."

The events that followed took only seconds.

Car horns blared and screeching tires were heard from across the intersection. A sleek black town car careened across passing traffic onto the sidewalk and slammed into the antique shop. Rowan was at the center of the collision. Shocked beyond belief, Loki did not remember stopping. Around him pedestrians screamed and cars halted in the road, but he paid them no attention. He had only been 20 or 30 feet away from her, but it felt like miles. How could he have let this happen? Why did he not keep her by his side?

Thor and Loki rushed forward to the scene of the crash. Thor easily removed the car from the storefront using his great strength and left it on the sidewalk. He checked the driver, a chauffeur of sorts, but the man had been killed upon impact. No one else was traveling in the car with him. Several passers-by were already on their mobile phones calling for police and medical help.

Loki stepped into the ruined storefront, heedless of the building's possible loss of integrity. Glass and broken merchandise ground under his steps. Rowan lay in a heap amidst the building's debris and the store's clothing racks. The cake she made as a gift to his parents had been crushed and torn apart from the impact. Crumbs and apple pieces were strewn across the floor behind her further into the store next to the crumpled container.

As he quickly approached Rowan he became aware of every minute detail of her being. He saw that she still breathed raggedly and that she had sustained great injuries to her torso and legs. Several bleeding gashes marred her face. He felt a painful stab in his chest that threatened to unsteady his calm, but he held onto it tightly it for her sake. He would right this situation. He would devise a solution and get her through this.

He knelt beside Rowan and swiftly cleared the debris from around her. He refrained from moving her much as he did not want to aggravate her injuries. He gently supported her head and spoke quietly to her. His voice sounded foreign to him, wavering on the verge of tears.

"Rowan. My Rowan. Can you hear me?" Another glance down her body revealed her injuries were worse than he had first assessed. Frantically, he called to his brother behind him, "Thor! We must leave _now_! Asgard's healers can save her!"

Thor motioned the onlookers to stay back and entered the destroyed shop stolidly. "Brother...her injuries are too great to travel. We should not move her—"

"Just take us!" Loki commanded as he crouched over her protectively. "I cannot bear to see her this way! She has done nothing to deserve this. If anyone should receive such harm, it should be me." He softly added as he stroked her hair, "Why was it not me? Oh, let her be spared..."

"We cannot move her, Loki," Thor said firmly, a pained upon his face. "We must wait for Midgard's healers. Many witnesses have already summoned them, and they shall be here quickly."

Loki conceded to Thor's judgment only because he was preoccupied with Rowan's well-being. _And the baby...our baby!_ He pushed away the thought as he racked his mind for an answer to this situation. He knew little of healing and aid that would help in such a situation. He had already done what he could, but he had to do something. He could not lose her.

Only a minute passed, but to Loki it was a lifetime of anxiety.

Rowan's eyes opened slowly, but in shock her eyes focused somewhere beyond Loki's face. "Loki..." she rasped quietly.

Loki smiled and felt a pang of excited relief to hear her voice. "Do not move, my love. You have been hurt. Help comes swiftly. Relax, I am—."

She interrupted him, lost in a vision, "Our little one...she has your eyes, Loki...like jewels...she's here...so beautiful..." Tears welled in Rowan's eyes, but her expression remained dazed.

"Stay with me, Rowan. Please, you must stay with—," he pleaded desperately, suppressing his own tears.

"Calling...me...to go..." She uttered in a whisper. Tears rolled down her bloody cheeks.

"No! Rowan, you cannot— What will I—?" Loki choked back the rest, unable to continue speaking.

Rowan's eyes glazed over with the veil of death.

As her last breath faded Loki felt a momentary weightlessness to his reality, as if a string had been cut or a cord unplugged. In its wake flooded a wave of despair and rage that would have dwarfed L'Shale's volcanic eruption. His throat, hoarse though it was, loosed a wordless scream of raw emotion so intense it chilled even Thor's stalwart heart. Onlookers stared, cried, and turned away in their own sadness.

But Loki's rage left him swiftly after his bellow faded, leaving only hopelessness. He slumped over Rowan's lifeless body, gripping her closely and sobbing quietly.

The world became blurry, all his senses dulled except the pain he felt in every fiber of his being.

She had been snatched away from him.

When the ambulance arrived several minutes later, the paramedics recorded the time of her death and took her away—he did not care where to, her spirit was gone from this world. Thor dealt with the police on Loki's behalf. For hours Loki existed in a numb state, lost in a trauma-induced void.

She was gone.

* * *

Thor accompanied Loki home to his apartment some time after nightfall. Athena was being kept by Ned and Sophia, Loki's neighbors, for the week under the impression that they were visiting Loki's family out of town. Loki sat down on the couch and closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to look at the space he had shared with Rowan without his heart seizing in his chest, but he had nowhere else to go.

"Why did you not save her?" Loki desperately begged of his brother in a hoarse voice. He knew the question to be rhetorical, but he had to blame someone. It wasn't good enough for him to trust her death was a result of chance. The situation was too traumatizing for logic to control his decisions. "If you had been more mindful—" Loki resented Thor his superhuman strength.

"The accident happened too quickly to intervene, her injuries were severe, and her body was already taxed by pregnancy." Thor spoke plainly, but his sorrow for Loki's pain showed. "I am so sorry for your loss, brother. I know what it is like to mourn a fallen loved one."

"Your sympathy is irrelevant. You should be ashamed of your inaction."

"My inaction?" Thor grew irritated. "I gave aid the same as you. I refused to transport her for her health, but unfortunately her chance to survive was slim. Decisions must be made and executed during conflict, and we must endure their consequences." Thor had matured much since they last spent time together, it would seem. But Loki cared nothing for his brother's achievements. Especially now.

He felt his fists clench in frustration, and his pain ebbed ever so briefly as white hot anger rushed into him.

"Hypocrite! You stood idly by while an innocent, pregnant woman who would soon be your kin was murdered!" Something very close to his old rage and hatred coursed through him, but he let it pass quickly. He was too weak to hold onto it, and misery toppled his resolve once again. He sank back into the couch, head down.

Thor let his irritation pass and continued his attempt to comfort Loki, "Brother, I implore you, come home. Your anger and sorrow cannot return her to you. Mother, father, and I can help you overcome your grief. We shall mourn together as family."

Loki refused to look at his brother. He grasped at where he thought his long-buried hatred had retreated to, but he found nothing.

"Leave me, traitor. Spare me your pity, and run home to your family. Mine has been lost to me." Loki's scathing words were forced and came from a lost place Loki had not been to in over a year. It was jumbled, dark, and broken much like the ruined storefront after the crash. The place offered no comfort or resolution, only pain and loss.

"Your logic fails you, brother. You are overcome by your emotions, and you shut out those who care for you when you should..." He trailed off, understanding that he could not push Loki after such hardship. "I shall honor your request if that is your wish. Take care and farewell, Loki." Thor departed the apartment, leaving his brother to grieve in solitude.

Loki's attempt to lay blame on his brother had failed. He would not bear the consoling drivel Thor would push upon him. The decision to banish him was part denial and part pride. Loki had managed a crude semblance of acceptance for his family the past year, but today it had been shattered. What good was a god of a brother who could not save a helpless woman? The thought, however undeserved and inaccurate, became kindling for a growing fire.

More twigs would feed it soon enough.

* * *

Several days passed dimly.

At first he could hardly think of her without choking up and crying. Yet after some time there was just nothing. A fog settled in over his thoughts, clouding his judgments and actions. He would not leave the apartment. He could not recall his last meal or the last time he slept. Loki had consigned himself to a barren hell of memories.

Sophia had brought him food at some point, but it lay in the fridge untouched. He wasn't sure how she knew what had happened, but he didn't care. She offered to keep Athena for as long as necessary, and he thanked her with an empty voice. She had not been back since, he did not think, but he wasn't sure.

He couldn't function. He canceled appointments and turned down clients that wished to visit him or send consoling items such as flowers and food. Eventually he stopped taking the calls and watched their messages collect unheard. The emotional center that held his feelings for Rowan was a hub that allowed him to connect with others, to connect with the mortal world. Now that center was incapable of allowing him to perform—it was dysfunctional and devoid of power to drive him.

He had no plan, no goal, no ambition. He struggled to find meaning to cling to and build upon, but there was nothing. Seeing the master copy of Rowan's finished manuscript stung his eyes, and he threw it away. It was useless now. Would her book even still be printed now that she was gone? He locked the door to his bedroom and her writing room, opting instead to sleep on the couch—although the infrequent amount of sleep he had was not restful in the least. He dreamed only of her death in various ways, and each time he was helpless to save her.

He glanced at the file Nick Fury had given him more than once, but he couldn't assist S.H.I.E.L.D. in his current state. He couldn't make himself care; his involvement wouldn't bring her back.

Rowan had become one more broken crux of his existence. First Thor overshadowed him, then Odin disfavored him, then his madness threatened to overtake him, and now his Rowan was lost.

Lost.

One grey day—he knew not if it was morning or night—the memory of Rowan's voice echoed in his thoughts painfully.

_What happens after an Asgardian dies?_

The thought had come unbidden. He had done all he could to avoid hearing her, but painful though it was the words seemed to guide him. He entertained the suggestion rather than remain in a passive lull.

_Yes...what would happen after I die? There is no honorable warrior's death for me—I shall never grace the halls of Valhalla. Therefore Asgardian custom would dictate that my soul should rest elsewhere, in Hel._

He had neglected to tell Rowan of Hel. Hel wasn't a place of punishment like the Hell of some Midgardian religions, it was merely the realm where all other Asgardians rested after death—the sick, the elderly, the children, and all those who do not suffer a warrior's death. Hel contained elements of paradise as well as gloomier areas. It did not make for an interesting story like Valhalla.

Now the gears were getting into motion; he had a plan to think about and ideas to mull. For the first time in days he managed to apply logic to his situation, if still unhealthily: Rowan had been his reason to survive. If she was gone, then there was no more reason to survive. What else was there for him in this life? His business? Not essential in the least. Athena? She could easily be taken care of by someone else.

His thoughts roiled with desperate possibilities:

_I was a fool to place all my faith in her. The roots of her love reached deep within me, and her passing has ripped each one from me without remorse. I have nothing now._ _If humanity's destiny holds naught but despair, I wish no further part of it. My spirit cannot withstand this crushing weight without her. If Hel awaits me following death, my memories would remain. This pain would remain. Yet if I could slip from Hel back into the void..._

_In the void I need not worry about emotion, ambition, expectation, gain, or loss. There is and always will be nothing. No contact, no conversation. Solitude. Everlasting destitution. And from absolute nothing grows madness. It is a fitting death for one who desires nothing more than to forget._

And so he plotted a complete death worse than the suicide that would begin it.

* * *

Director Nick Fury paced his small office of the newly-built compound beneath a rural area outside of Macon, Georgia. The compound was built as one of two planned to replace the base that was destroyed when the tesseract was stolen by Loki over a year ago.

So it was true irony that Fury had approached Loki two weeks ago to combat the growing threat that Thanos posed against Earth. Reports from outside sources indicated that Thanos was in possession of powerful relics that could manipulate reality, and he intended to gather more. SHIELD did not know for what purpose, but Earth had been implied as a target. That was good enough for him to take action.

When Loki had returned to Earth last year, rather than station standard agents to track him, Fury instead called in several old favors of some locals in the city Loki took residence in. Fury used these contacts as an eyes-and-ears network to track Loki's behavior. Confident that Loki couldn't resist the temptation of power, Fury had planned to catch the former Asgardian deep in an evil plot.

Some of Fury's contacts included: Ophelia Leventis, a widow to a former S.H.I.E.L.D. operative who now ran an antique store; Genevieve Harris, an old friend who retired in the southern United States as a curator of historic homes; Thomas Ackerman, a former military liaison who moonlighted for S.H.I.E.L.D. during the 1980's and was now a cook for his family's restaurant, Etta's; and William "Billy" Pinckney, a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent whose program was downsized 15 years ago—few know he remains on the payroll for a deeper program—but now poses as a homeless man since no one notices him or perceives him as a threat.

When news of Loki's activities got back to Fury, he remained skeptical for months despite Thor's assurances that Loki was a new man. But as time wore on it became evident that the former god of deception was indeed operating with a different agenda. Reports from his network read like the "good" events on the evening news: Loki helped a local used car dealership launch a more effective ad campaign rather than close down, Loki's work at a paper processing plant increased their production rate and lowered their costs, Loki assisted a long-time restaurant owner with overhauling its image to bring in more customers.

What was the man playing at? What was he hoping to accomplish?

By his analysis, Loki's recent actions matched his previous profile by less than 15%. He may as well be a different person.

There was a knock at Fury's door, and he ceased pacing to greet his visitor. Agent Maria Hill stepped into the room hesitantly with files in one hand and a rope in the other. The rope lead behind her back out into the hallway.

"What is it, Hill? I don't like your posture."

Agent Hill straightened and cleared her throat before continuing, "Sorry to disturb you, sir, but a...message arrived for you."

"Alright, so hand it over."

She handed the rope to Director Fury, and he raised an eyebrow at her incredulously.

"I wasn't sure how to handle her, so I brought her to you straight away."

"Her? What...?" Fury tugged the rope and into the room trotted Athena, Loki and Rowan's light brown greyhound. His face hardened, threatening to explode. "You had better start explaining this, Hill."

Fury's tolerance for shenanigans was quite low, and he resented many of the inter-office pranks that were sometimes played. If someone had stolen Loki's dog...

"She came with a note, sir." Agent Hill quickly handed a small envelope over to him. The front of it bore his name in an angular, but graceful script.

The greyhound had enough slack on her rope to reach the wall of the office and laid down against it, panting contentedly. Fury opened the envelope and unfolded the note inside of it. It was written in the same script:

_There are no white picket fences._

"Do you have any more information on this?" He motioned to the dog with the note, "I believe I've missed something."

"You have, sir. Loki's fiancee was killed in a car accident last week—his pregnant fiancee. Thor told us Loki was very depressed when he last saw him."

Fury paused for a moment. "Shit. If there was any heart in Loki at all..." Realization dawned on his face. "So Thor left him alone? Get an agent on Loki pronto. A man like him is dangerous under duress. Don't let him do anything stupid. I need him alive." Fury laid the dog's rope on his desk and moved quickly to the other side of his desk. He began to rifle through documents in a drawer in preparation.

"He _was_ being watched, sir, but he slipped by our man." Hill swallowed uneasily, fearing Fury's wrath.

Fury paused to await Hill's explanation, his one good eye fixed on her levelly.

"He jumped from a rooftop, sir," she continued. "Several bystanders saw him hit the ground, watched the medics pronounce him dead, and saw the ambulance take him away. But when the vehicle arrived at the morgue, his body had vanished."

She nodded toward Athena, patiently resting her head upon her outstretched paws. "The dog was left at a neighbor's home with instructions to send her here by courier after his death—he knew where we were. There has been no sign of him for two days." She handed Loki's file to Director Fury. A large stamp bearing the phrase "Deceased/Missing" was the only addition since he had last perused it.

"Two _days_?" Fury slammed the open drawer shut. "Tracking Loki has been my priority recon mission for over a year, and you wait two days to tell me he committed suicide? How nice of you to fill me in," Fury scolded heatedly.

He dropped the file onto his desk and slammed a clenched fist into it. "Damnit! I knew he was a long shot, but now we can't afford to lose any more advantages! He was our only chance for an inside man." Fury glared at Loki's file. He would not have been surprised if it caught fire from the amount of frustration that burned inside him. _I watch him for a year, and he slips away with no trace!_

Agent Hill had straightened further to attention, avoiding his angry gaze. "Orders, sir?"

Fury's anger subsided, and he dropped into his chair, defeated. He reclined with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. He waited a long moment before he acquiesced to resolving the current situation. He had to move forward with what he was given.

"Agent Hill."

"Yes, sir?"

Fury tossed the rope to her.

"Get that dog a bowl of water and some food."

* * *

**Author's note:**

**It was so difficult to write this chapter. It pained me to create a death scene and watch Loki fall apart. :(**

**Why did Rowan die? What has become of Loki? Why did he vanish? Is he still alive?  
**

**All will be answered in Chapter 9...  
**


	9. Chapter 9: Fate's Call

He remembered the fall.

He remembered the temporary feeling of weightless freedom, like soaring above the rooftops, gliding eternally.

There was no fear in Loki's mortal death, only relief from the physical stress of humanity and its expectations. But the damage to his soul had been done. He had not taken the time necessary to grieve and heal his wounds before departing. Despite easily shedding his mortality, he still carried his memories. They would never leave him. After the fleeting freedom of death wore off, lingering emotions seeped back into the forefront.

Love, broken and bittersweet. Wretched anguish. And so much pain. Unbearable pain.

Distantly he regretted that his death had not improved his situation.

For an unknown time his consciousness drifted. He tried to shake himself free of the memories that crippled his momentum and strangled his emotions from moving on—acceptance and growth was not impossible in this vacuum, just improbable.

In response to the torture he called to the darkness of the void surrounding him. He felt it's slimy taint catch hold of him, and it began to engulf his consciousness. Within its corrupted grip he heard demented babble of the collective depraved, dejected, and delirious eternally lost in its midst:

_warm memories to eat. soft parts. the oh so sweet beginnings. delicious frailty. ready to soak, ready to seep. inside the sweet memories of death. life polluted. beautiful screams. singing screams. exquisite agony. bathe in the lie._

Loki could remember the first time he had experienced its poisonous filth. But back then he had hope, purpose, ambition, jealousy, and passion to strive for his continued existence. His psyche had been fertile ground for growth. Now he had nothing to fight or live for. His spirit lay fallow. Nothing more to do than relinquish himself to become a breeding ground for insanity. To be sown with the fetid darkness that infested the void between realms.

But before he could succumb to the void's permeating madness, he felt a tug in the center of himself. It wasn't part of the taint, though, it came from outside and beyond.

Suddenly the world was filled with bright light. Then reality battered the rest of his senses like a jackhammer. He was sorely aware of every aching bone and muscle in his again-present body. Breath rushed into his lungs with an audible gasp. He heard murmurs and the drone of conversation, but it felt like an eternity before his blurry vision sharpened.

A golden glow suffused the retreating sunlight shining into the room. With difficulty he turned his head slightly and saw arched windows framing the image of a familiar fountain: a robed matron, her arms outstretched, cool blue water cascading over her upturned palms—a symbol of life and health. He was in the healer's ward.

Hoarsely he pondered aloud, "Asgard...? No... Not here..." He managed a groan as his head was propped up slightly. "Take me back..." he complained feebly.

Odin, a shining beacon, stood over his recovering son and spoke briskly.

"You have been resurrected and healed, my son. Your recovery should be quick. You were not separated from your body long, perhaps only minutes."

"I am...alive?"

"Yes, Loki," Frigga, his mother, said as she rested her hand upon his. He had not noticed her sitting next to his bed. "You are alive and home with your family."

Slowly he began to see that others were present in the room: Several healers and their assistants attended him or milled about the room performing complementary tasks. The healers, clad in white robes, rubbed salve upon his torso, arms, and legs and gave him herbal mixtures to drink that would restore his strength and speed his healing. He thought of refusing their aid, but was still too weak to do more than complain.

As if the day wasn't bad enough, Thor appeared in the doorway.

"Father, I heard Loki had awakened—"

Odin cut off his older son with the silent raise of one hand. "Later, Thor. Your brother needs his rest for now."

Thor called to Loki from the doorway before leaving with an excited grin, "I shall speak with you when you are stronger, brother. Be well soon!"

Loki's senses slowly returned to him, and he said wearily to Odin, "I chose death. Why did you disturb my soul's rest?"

"Your soul was far from restful, Loki. Heimdall tracked your descent to Hel, but when you did not arrive, he searched and found the chink you must have slipped through into the void between realms. Knowing your exact whereabouts made it easy for the healers and I to bring you back from the clutches of darkness."

"I would rather madness consume me than endure the pain I carry," Loki admitted sulkily. Discussions with Odin often made him feel as if he were still a young boy deep in reproach. Odin and Frigga exchanged a knowing glance. Thor had explained the situation to them already, and no one understood love and loss like older parents.

Frigga rose from Loki's side to caress his pale cheek briefly and place a kiss on his forehead. "Our love for you is steadfast, Loki. I shall leave you to rest a while. Be well soon, my dear son."

He gave no reply, only watched her exit. Hearing his mother's sincere affection made his heart ache bitterly. Her gentleness reminded him of Rowan. Was there nothing in the waking world that would alleviate his pain rather than put more salt in the wound?

Frigga placed a delicate hand upon Odin's arm as she left and whispered softly to him, "Give him your support, my King. He has suffered greatly, yet continues to bear his anguish alone."

"Your doting will not help him accept his grief," he whispered back to her, "He has learned much, my Queen, and his resilience is greater than you know."

Odin paced the room briefly after his wife's exit, silently scrutinizing Loki and the fountain outside in turns. When he finally spoke it was an earnest attempt at concern, but Loki desired none of his sympathy.

"How do you feel, Loki?"

"As if my heart has been ripped asunder."

"Anything else?"

"No." His reply was resolute and measured. He was done chatting.

"I see. The healers have given you a concoction to help you sleep restfully. We shall speak in the morning. Sleep well, my son."

* * *

Loki awoke the following morning from a dreamless sleep feeling much more rested than he had expected. He was even able to stand and move about fairly easily.

As he consumed a bit of breakfast that the healers' assistants brought him, he attempted to focus on his movements and his surroundings—anything to stay out of his own brooding thoughts for a time. Yet as he fought to keep his head above the waves of misery there was a feeling below him in the deep that he almost did not recognize, a feeling of wholeness. A feeling that he would be able to touch the bottom again should he slip under.

Hearing the news of his quick recovery, Odin summoned Loki to the great hall rather than visit him again in the healer's ward. The assistants helped Loki dress in a plain, but well-cut outfit that he had often worn to practice in the training yards. Normally it might have brought back old memories, but today he was focused on speaking with Odin. He had some questions that needed answers.

His thoughts seemed to steady as he walked even if his body was still a bit shaky. He could control the pain of his loss a little easier—he refused to ignore it or wallow in it any longer. If it was going to be a part of him, it would be put to good use somehow. It hurt immeasurably, but he did not want to forget her. She was the woman who chose him for what was inside of him, not for his favor or power or lust or any other selfish concern. She loved him for the qualities no one else took the time to appreciate. And she was the woman who would have given him a family to call his own.

Loki entered the audience chamber, giving his father only a cursory incline of his head rather than kneeling. He saw no need to grant such a formal show of respect for someone who disrespected his desires.

_It was my choice to die._

Odin strode through the great hall toward him. He had been pacing the balcony adjacent before his arrival.

"Good morning, Loki. How do you feel this morning?"

He found Odin's persistent attempts to elicit discussion of his personal struggles quite irritating, but a little self-disclosure would be necessary for the answers he needed.

"I am closer to myself again. My heartbreak lingers, yet I no longer feel divided or hollow as I did on Earth. Why?"

"That is the response I awaited yesterday. Freyr sensed the pervasive taint of your madness when he rescued your mind from L'Shale's mental devastation. He could not rid you of the madness; it has grown from within a part of you. Yet he was able to restrain the dark heart of its influence, giving the rest of your spirit a chance to strengthen against it and grow around it. The lack of your malignant madness was a small reprieve to make living among humans easier for you. Freyr gave me instruction on how to release the restraint once you were ready. You have gained much mental clarity and stability during your exile, and I removed it upon your resurrection. You have the power to properly control your madness now that is weak from disuse, should you wish."

Odin's explanation had been quite revealing, but the word "resurrection" hung around his brow like a stolen halo. Why was he alive when his innocent Rowan was lost?

Growing anger, despair, and irrationality shook his voice. "Where is she? You were watching. If you resurrected me, then you can do the same for her."

"No, Loki. I cannot." His father's calm words stabbed deeply. He should not have contemplated that pathway of thought. He had previously avoided bargaining for a reason—it was futile. "Your betrothed made peace with her existence and moved on to the ether. So did the child. They shall watch the universe as a part of it. One day they may choose to reincarnate, but we cannot know right now."

Loki's heart sank in disbelief. Part of him knew that moving on was a part of life that everyone must go through, yet he was angry. Angry that he had been cheated out of his life with Rowan. Angry that he would not know their child. Angry that his father had overturned his decision to take his own life.

"This was _not_ what was to happen—" His words were spoken too quietly for Odin to hear, a fervent denial thick with frustration. His emotions roiled.

_Attachment is a weakness._

The old mantra nagged at him. In a world of unbelievable agony it beckoned to wrap its comfort around him. He dusted it off like a forgotten cloak and pulled it around himself. It would shelter him from future emotional thorns no matter how enticing the flower. But there was no relief from the damage already done.

_I will trust no one henceforth. Never again._

From thin air Loki created a nameless staff as black as night—something to focus upon as he gathered himself. He had forgotten his sorceries, but the skills were once again second-nature after using them.

Odin, oblivious to Loki's internal struggle, entreated his upset son to speak with him. "I watched over your actions, yet I bid you to share with me, my son. What insights and lessons did you learn during your exile on Midgard?"

Loki was affronted at Odin's audacity to reduce his murdered beloved to a life lesson.

He seethed with a deep, dark anger that had been withheld from him as a mortal. He could clearly distinguish parts of himself that he had not felt in over a year. Even though they were tainted with madness, it felt good to freely control _all_ of himself once again.

"Lesson?" He glared at his father incredulously, "I mourn my murdered love and you speak to me of lessons?! I intended to bring news of my engagement and the addition to our family. But in twisted mockery of your lesson to be learned, I live while she is taken from me! Rowan was no lesson... She was to be my wife! She _chose_ me, and I truly _loved_ her! I would have died for her! I would have died _for our child_!" Loki paused, his heated focus fixed on the illusory staff clenched within a white-knuckled grip.

_Fatherhood is lost to me as well. Never again will I endure this much pain!_

"Can you even understand such a feeling?" His voice was half plea, half accusation. "Can you? You sit atop your ivory tower watching the rest of us prance about our lives like your playdolls, learning the lessons you see fit to teach us. Am I to believe my mortal life was but a puppet in your twisted play?" The rage climbed in his voice. The madness would seep out soon if he did not control it. "Did you enjoy twitching my strings, old man? Did you?!" He paused another moment to recompose himself, but his words were no less acidic. "You dole out your cruelty and dare to call it a lesson. I am disgusted I ever called you my father and sought your approval."

_Never again._

Odin narrowed his gaze circumspectly. "I twitched no strings, my son. Some hands of power are even more far-reaching than my own. Fate, the threads of _reality_...are all that may claim credit for your experiences."

His father's cryptic message spoke volumes to Loki and set his mind into motion—_Thanos_. _Odin is not to blame for her death after all. Thanos indeed possesses the Infinity Gauntlet as well as at least one gem—the reality gem—if not others as well. _

Possession of the yellow reality gem would have allowed Thanos to fulfill wishes even if they contradicted scientific law. But how far had Thanos reached into Loki's life? Had Thanos wished for Rowan's death? Or perhaps the malicious intent was deeper than that. Had Thanos wished Loki to meet someone worth losing? Had Thanos wished for Loki to suffer? Was this all a joke or was he a tool in Thanos's plan? The possibilities ran wild, adding more and more twigs to the fire blazing within him.

_Thanos will pay dearly for this._

"But you _have_ grown, Loki," his father continued, "You throw your anger at me when you have cause to admire your own strength. You admit that you have loved and lost. You found happiness and sadness. You craved more than the selfish ends of power and recognition; you gave others your trust and held compassion in your heart for your beloved. Do not forsake your experiences and the feelings they cause, my son. They make us who we are, and we must accept them and move on if we are to grow."

True though Odin's words were, Loki did not hear them. He could not, would not, take Rowan's death in stride. With his hatred tightly controlled and centered, he accepted the path he would take—the path of vengeance.

Loki stared at his father for a long moment, noticing how old Odin now looked. Odin would die one day, but he would not be the one to rule Asgard. It was no longer his desire. His only focus was defeating Thanos.

Loki's voice was calm, collected, "If that is all you see of me—a lesson to be taught, a subject to be studied—then I am done here. Asgard holds _nothing_ for me, and it would seem I have cause to meet with my own fate." Loki stalked from the room with cold determination and no intention to return.

_Rowan...your death shall be avenged._

"And you eschew your growth to spite me," Odin mused to himself. He did not attempt to stop his son. "You are still a child after all, I see. So be it."

* * *

A voice of logic sought to remind him of words he once spoke to Rowan: _Failure can happen. Learn from it and move on._ Move on to what? He had everything he wanted in his hands, and it was taken from him. He would not play that game again. There was nothing to move on to, only business to take care of.

Rowan's death was no failure—not some simple error to be righted. She had been murdered along with their future. Murdered in cold merciless blood.

After a quick stop at the library for information, Loki made his way across the palace toward the royal gardens. Just prior to the garden's entryway, he heard Thor call his name cheerfully from behind him.

"Loki!"

Loki could not understand his brother's persistence to "rehabilitate" him into a proper Asgardian.

_No doubt he will invite me to frolic off with him on some pointless outing full of no one I care to be around and nothing I care to do._

He exhaled in minor irritation, but upon second thought recognized an opportunity and turned to greet his brother.

"Yes?" He did his best to appear in a hurry.

"How wondrous that you are up and around! Come with me to visit with our friends. Their good spirits shall speed your recovery."

_So. Utterly. Predictable._

"They do not wish to see me, Thor. They are not _my_ friends," Loki replied flatly.

"You speak nonsense, brother. Come out with us. The fresh air shall do you well."

"I cannot, Thor. I already have plans." He motioned to the gardens. "But if you could grant me a favor..."

"Always, Loki. What is your wish?"

"Will you be visiting Earth soon?"

"I have been summoned to a meeting at the headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D. in several day's time."

"Perfect. I need you to deliver a message to Director Fury. The message is for him alone to know. Do not involve any of his useless agents or your foolish comrades who play at being heroes."

Thor's brow furrowed. "Come now, brother. You could show some respect for the men and women who risk their lives to preserve humanity. You were a part of that once."

"True, I could show respect, but not today. I have a more personal cause to champion."

Thor conceded in the interest of avoiding conflict with his recovering brother. "Tell me your message and be done, then."

"You must repeat this phrase to him exactly..." Loki shared the message and asked Thor to repeat it back to him to prove his retention.

After Thor repeated the message three times, he was satisfied that his brother might not screw it up. He sent Thor on his way then resumed his walk to a particular corner of the royal gardens. It was not as trimmed and ornately decorated as the majority of the hedges and fountains it held, so it was often free of visitors. As a youth he had frequently retreated there to study or read when he wanted to remain totally undisturbed. There was an area between the hedges that was easily overlooked by servants who came looking for him. His father always scolded him for disappearing at inopportune times—he would hide there to avoid boring social engagements that should not have required his attendance. Thor had been the aspiring ambitious warrior, a worthy discussion piece for his family while he seemed to wither in his brother's shadow as the knowledge-hungry scholar.

Once he reached the hedge-lined corner he sat upon its old stone bench and stared through the hedges, lost in thought.

_The hollowness in my life—the one she patched up so easily with her love and patience—is now torn open anew leaving my sincerity and patience and happiness to bleed out of me. What dressing could staunch such a shocking wound? _

_The whole of my past year's joy destroyed. _

_My mortal life with her, my Rowan, and the long dream we shared is a nightmare to me now. Memories that once brought comfort bring only pain. A pain so sharp it hurts to breath, to speak, to think of her at all. But I must endure this pain. This is my punishment for sharing my trust._

The only way I will survive is to set my pain alight and push it into every dark corner of my being—a blazing beacon to fuel my revenge. I cannot change the past, but I cannot move forward until the power responsible is punished by my hand.

Odin claims I have grown, but I was a fool to think I could trust another and avoid the pain of loss. Her comfort was ripped away from me prematurely. I loathe her grievous fate to the core of my being. How is that for compassion, father?

Fate has wronged both of us, my beloved. And the power responsible for your death shall pay in kind should I die a thousand times to exact it. I will not fail. I have finally found my conviction, Rowan—it was you.

After hours of contemplation, his plan was ready. He arose patiently and created a gateway to an unknown world cloaked in the suffocating darkness of nightfall.

And so his mission of revenge began.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**There's still a little more closure coming...**

**Epilogue with S.H.I.E.L.D. next week!**


	10. Epilogue: Into Darkness and Mutual Goals

The gateway closed behind Loki, and he surveyed his surroundings. The darkness did not bother him anymore—he could easily discern the shapes of rocky outcrops and cliff faces in the midnight gloom. He was thankful for the restoration of his Asgardian abilities even though the price paid was not worth the trade. He had nothing left but to work with the resources available to him now.

The location he had traveled to was far removed from Asgard, a dark and craggy realm located deep below even Midgard—Svartalfheim, the realm of the dark elves.

He approached a large fissure that split the expanse of land before him. When he peered over its edge he saw dim lights shining through windows of dwellings built into the rocky wall of the canyon itself. An uneven staircase spiraled its way around the fissure's jagged wall on down to end at its floor. Wishing to avoid notice, he swiftly descended the stairs toward the bottom, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.

He had heard of a neutral observer who dwelt here among the dark elves. A scryer and collector of quite a valuable commodity: information. It was said he would offer his services for the right price, and information from anywhere other than Midgard was something Loki was sorely lacking due to his year-long exile. And what he needed to know resided in no book, but in the distant outer realms that were not a part of this dimension.

Certainly he could leverage the right price.

Upon reaching the canyon's rocky floor he spotted a small freestanding dwelling. It was built with rough bricks and mortar, worn with age, and in need of several repairs. It had one poorly hung door and no windows. He approached it and entered, confident that it was his desired destination.

The small main room was cluttered and lived-in. Clothing and blankets had been tossed carelessly and dishes were piled onto a small counter next to a mildewed sink. A writing desk was stationed in the corner, parchments and books strewn about its surface.

The interior of the hovel was poorly lit by a single red candle on the mantelpiece. A mound of cooled wax from previous burnings piled beneath it and cascaded over the shelf's edge. The fireplace beneath it lay cold and bare.

The ornate centerpiece of the room was quite out of place in such a tiny unkempt house. A large shallow bowl of the thinnest blue porcelain stood mounted on a delicately carved wooden vanity. An even larger oval mirror was mounted behind the basin. The mirror's frame matched the embellishments present throughout the rest of the vanity. Around the perimeter of the mirror's surface were etched symbols that Loki did not recognize. While he might not have understood the meaning, he definitely knew the apparatus was used for scrying.

From the adjoining room he heard movement followed by a gruff voice.

"Ah, I have a visitor it seems. What day is today...? Oh! Oh yes!"

A shriveled greyish figure emerged from the room at what Loki assumed was a quick pace for the elderly being. His exterior was as gruff and grizzled as his voice. The mystic might have once been a dark elf, but time, darkness, and seclusion seemed to have taken its toll upon his stature and eyesight. In Loki's experience many scryers forsook their physical eyesight in favor of their scrying visions—what they called "true sight."

"Let me put my failing eyes upon you. Yes...yes... The neglected son of Odin," he continued with pleasant surprise. "I knew you would come to me soon," the old scryer cackled with a crooked grin.

"Mystic humor...charming, to be sure. Then you know why I seek your assistance?"

"Hm...not exactly. Scrying is a tricky art. Visions of your next meal may come across clear as rain water while epic battles may be fuzzier than a cloud. It's never precise, but usually what you need to see."

_Usually? This had better be worth my time._

The mystic motioned Loki to sit in one of the rickety chairs beside a messy table and joined him at its other seat.

"So, tell me Loki...is it Odinson or is it Laufeyson again? I cannot recall which I last saw. You've questioned your identity many times these past few years."

Loki did not appreciate being known so well by a stranger, but granted the mystic a smile anyway. He was here for assistance, after all.

"Simply Loki will suffice. I seek to know the motivations behind the death of my betrothed, a human called—"

"Ah, so it's Rowan you seek to avenge. I wondered why she was so important. She showed up in several of my visions about Midgard. Along with you, of course." The old scryer momentarily lost himself in a fond memory and smiled.

_He watches our lives like they are books to him, just stories to be told._

As an afterthought he added, "She saw her world in a beautiful way, you know."

Loki's heart heaved, but he quickly quelled the simultaneous urges to cry and to kill. His plan would fail if he gave in to his extremes.

"Yes, Rowan Fields."

"Well... as you may have heard, there is a price for my services."

"Name your price, and I shall pay it," Loki declared without hesitation.

"Now, I usually ask for a trifle, but of you I wish a steeper amount, yet it should have some return value to you as well: Talk with me for the evening."

Perplexed, Loki pressed for clarification, "Is that all? Why should talking be so costly? Does any particular subject interest you or will Thor's sleeping habits suffice? He snores loudly enough to rouse souls from their eternal slumber."

The mystic's chuckle turned into a cough and cleared his throat with a rasp. "Sounds riveting, but I do have a request. Talk to me of your lady love. I would know what magic between you two made the god of lies seek revenge. I may have watched you both, but it is different to hear it from the source in person."

Loki cleared his own throat, pondering his answer.

_I must have the information I seek._

"Very well. Where shall I start?"

The mystic scoffed, "Oh, start wherever you want. I'm used to seeing events out of order."

Loki expected such disclosure of his memories of Rowan to be painful, but after a time he found himself smiling and even laughing rather than crying. Soon he was sharing his fondest memories.

"...and all of us around the table wore different shades of disgust because the cake tasted incredibly bitter. But no one had the heart to tell her it tasted so awful until she finally sat down to eat a piece herself. The look on _her_ face was the most amusing!"

"All because she added the wrong amount of rising agent? Oh my, how funny indeed!"

The two unlikely conversationalists laughed for a time.

Winded from his hearty laugh, the scryer caught sight of his mirror and remembered his promise. He rose from his chair stiffly and hobbled toward it.

"Oh, but we have talked for hours. And I do believe I can see the spark you saw in your beloved. She is worthy of remembrance. Worthy, indeed, yes."

Loki felt the buoyancy from his happy memories fade as he remembered his current goal.

"Now then, what exactly do you wish to know?"

"Who is responsible for Rowan's death? Who orchestrated it?" Loki did not want to play his hand by mentioning Thanos. Not just yet. There was always a chance it was someone—something else...

"Now, let us have a look at what is out there."

The mystic prepared his scrying apparatus by filling the shallow bowl with water then retrieving a small vial from a cupboard below the vanity. He unstoppered the vial then allowed three drops to fall into the basin, causing ripples to form along its previously undisturbed surface. The ripples did not fade over time, instead they slowed instantly, but maintained their intensity, as if the liquid had become thicker. Nodding in satisfaction, the mystic replaced the vial in the cupboard then proceeded to trace his hand along the mirror's inscription, reciting the ancient incantation that drove his craft.

As he chanted a blue mist arose from the water that became more opaque when he finished. He placed his hands upon the vanity countertop adjacent to the bowl, assuming a stance that showed his concentration and long years as a master diviner.

Loki could see movement happening within the mist, but the action was too quick and blurry for even his sharp eyes to perceive. He watched for several minutes as the mystic stared blankly through the mist into the mirror, absorbing the visions he observed.

Without warning, the mystic spoke flatly, entranced by his deep concentration, "Step closer if you wish to view the face of your accused."

Loki crossed the room quickly to stand beside the mystic. He peered into the mist, but could only make out blobs of color.

"I see nothing. It is unclear."

"Relax...let your mind reach out to the mist, and it will show you..."

Loki complied, focusing his own concentration upon the blue misty cloud hovering before them both.

What he saw came at first as a jumble of colors, then settled into a surreal scene:

**A huge, muscled grey-skinned figure stood against a backdrop of space and stars—Thanos, the fallen titan, the mad titan. He loomed above a massive throne, gesturing toward a Chitauri warrior that knelt silently before him, waiting to attend his master's needs.**

**Thanos then placed a large, golden gauntlet upon one of his hands. He grinned widely as he flexed his hand in it, relishing its heavy weight and admiring the back of the glove piece. Capping each knuckle and the back of his hand were six large gem settings. Most were empty except the settings on his index finger and the back of his hand which held a yellow gem and blue gem respectively.**

**"So, Little Lord Loki thought he could run away and hide after his failures. He should prove an adequate test of the gems' capabilities. But how to punish a man who desires recognition above all?" The fallen titan mused, lost in thought.**

**The gauntlet's blue gem glowed as a chuckle escaped his thin lips. The blue gem—the mind gem—would allow him to know another's thoughts and dreams.**

**"Ah, so a little human has won his heart. And her roots have grown deep within it. Time to rip them out." Thanos jerked his gauntleted fist. "Chop him down, and watch him fall. He will yet understand the price of his failure and cowardice."**

**Thanos clenched his fist and chuckled darkly as the yellow gem in his golden gauntlet glowed.**

Loki's vision blurred until all he could clearly see was the yellow gem—the reality gem. Promptly he brought his focus away from the mist's vision. Thanos had, without a doubt, wished for Rowan's death. Loki felt ill and furious and—

_This was the reason for my visit. I must remain in control of myself._

He did not know how Thanos had obtained the Infinity Gauntlet and two of its gems, but he did know that Rowan's death had been a sick and twisted message: When you refuse to take sides, someone will choose your side for you.

Infuriated by the information he received, he bowed his head wordlessly to the mystic and departed the hut.

_It is quite difficult to wield a gauntlet if you have no hands to wear it upon. He will yet understand the price of opposing ME!_

The mystic watched after him quietly with a wise look only a seer of his magnitude could give. He was well aware of Loki's mission and its results.

* * *

Loki's eyes adjusted swiftly to the inky blackness outside the mystic's home, and he formed a gateway to Earth. He stepped through to a dank alleyway in the middle of busy downtown Atlanta, Georgia.

_First to leave a message, then on to business._

He approached the mouth of the alleyway cautiously. The crowd of passers-by paid him no notice. In fact, many of the pedestrians were dressed in odd costumes, apparently on their way to some function.

He searched for someone with a phone in their hands, quickly targeting a young woman in a curly wig and short colorful skirt. When she passed he snatched her from the crowd and pulled her into the alley with him.

"What are you—!"

Wordlessly Loki plucked the fake rhinestone-infested phone free from her hands, ended the current call, and dialed a number from memory. Given the long hours he had read Fury's file over and over, it was only natural that he recall it easily.

"Hey, man, if you wanted to borrow my phone, I would have let you. But that was really jerky to just take it. That was my mom you hung up on! And you'd better not be making some international call!" The young woman kept her distance, content to berate him rather than oppose a man at least two feet taller than her.

He ignored her protests and stepped a few paces away to maintain his privacy. If you had told him three months ago that he would be making this kind of call, he would have laughed hysterically. But so many things had changed since then.

"I'm gonna be late for my photoshoot if you don't—"

Without turning to face the woman he waved his free hand over his shoulder as if he were tossing something toward her. Her head flew backward, landing hard against the wall. She slid to the alley's floor, settling in an unconscious heap of bright pink and blue. He finished leaving his message and ended the call.

_Fury may prove a useful...ally. _

He cringed at the thought of trusting Director Nick Fury in any way.

_Until I am finished with my task, of course._

He dropped the phone to the ground next to the woman, a disheveled mound of gaudy fashion.

"Thank you for your assistance."

He walked further back into the alleyway to leave for his next destination. This time his gateway revealed the same surreal landscape that he saw in the scryer's vision. There was no land at all, but a star-filled scene of black space dotted with what appeared to be an organized asteroid field. It was the Chitauri home base.

He stepped through and approached the lone Chitauri present.

"I seek audience with your master. Take me to him."

Recognizing Loki, the Chitauri sneered. "You failed. He does not wish to see y—"

Loki rushed the warrior, hands at his throat in an instant. He choked the alien's words to a gurgle, raising him to eye level so that his feet dangled in the space below him.

Loki growled at him in disgust, "Take me to him, and I may yet allow you to live. Refuse and I will throw you to the true darkness that hungers in the wicked depths of reality where your soul will be devoured mercilessly. Every ounce of your being will be ripped away painfully—_exquisitely_—until nothing remains but a useless husk of madness and filth."

The Chitauri grunted a moment in consideration—his master would not be happy if he disobeyed orders—but consented with a quick nod of his head. Loki released the ugly whelp, and he fell to the ground panting.

"This way," the Chitauri sputtered, coughing as he stood and led the way. "What is the nature of your request?"

"Tell him I have returned to seek his favor and forgiveness. I am here to propose a different plan of attack. This time there is no room for failure." Submitting to his love's murderer was agonizing, but he buried the feeling deeply. This was a necessary deception, business to be done.

As he approached Thanos atop his rocky throne suspended in nothingness, he held the burning hatred and darkness tightly in his heart, held it steady and controlled it. He would not fail her.

Not again.

Loki knelt before Thanos, the fallen titan, and guarded his thoughts well, carefully planning the words that would set his plans in motion. Thanos sat up at Loki's entrance, and a smile slowly crossed his face. The gauntlet lay feet away upon a pedestal. He could not see how many gems it held.

_Slowly or swiftly, I will exact my revenge. You will fall by my hands and pay for the pain you have caused me!_

It had indeed been a serious mistake to remain neutral.

* * *

"Boo!"

Dr. Bruce Banner chuckled and shook his head at Agent Clint Barton's prank. "That's not going to work on me, man. I have to be angry and out of control, not startled."

"Right. I'll use an arrow next time, then," Barton concluded with a wink.

"Oh, here she comes," Tony Stark eagerly commented to Barton as Agent Natasha Romanov entered the room briskly with files in her hand for their meeting. She walked straight to the large oval table in the middle of the board room without acknowledging anyone else. "You see that? No response. She walked right past me and didn't even blink!" Stark gestured to Romanov as he vented his irritation.

Dr. Banner wandered away a few paces, wishing to remove himself from any possible action.

Barton lowered his voice to a whisper. "That just means you haven't seen her countermove yet."

"Countermove?" Stark raised his eyebrows in interest and casually placed his hands in his pockets. "I'm ready for _anything_ she can throw at me." He did not, of course, lower his own voice.

Romanov ceased her paper collating and shuffling to shoot a menacing glance toward Stark and Barton.

Barton took a half step backward under her glare. "Hey, don't look at me, Natasha. It was Stark's idea to install a remote sonic device in your boots."

"Yeah, but the squishing noise was your idea, Clint. It was _also_ your idea to activate it during breakfast in the cafeteria." Stark smiled as he incriminated his comrade. "Very nice," Stark mouthed quietly in approval.

Resuming her paper distribution around the table Romanov lightly commented, "Don't forget I know where you sleep, Barton."

Intimately understanding her threat, Barton's eyebrows creased with worry.

"But— Stark was—!" Barton pointed at Stark in defense, but Tony only grinned at Clint knowing he was in deep trouble with his old partner.

Across the room Thor and Captain Steve Rogers were in their own conversation near a large green potted plant.

"And my brother was so distraught over the loss of his beloved and their unborn child that he took his own life to end his pain," Thor was saying to Rogers with a sorrowful expression as he recounted Loki's dilemma.

A mixture of surprise and sadness crossed Rogers's face as he listened to the Asgardian. "That's tragic, Thor. A guy like that manages to turn his life around only to have it ruined in an instant. His crimes were inexcusable, but I wouldn't wish a situation like that on anyone. I'm sorry for you loss, buddy." He clapped Thor on the shoulder as Director Nick Fury entered through a doorway at the side of the room. Above the door hung the large round S.H.I.E.L.D. logo featuring a stylized eagle.

"But there is happy news as well—"

Before Thor could continue, Director Fury approached the table and cleared his throat loudly. Everyone around the room wrapped up their conversations as they made their way to the large oval table in the center of the room to begin their scheduled meeting.

Director Fury remained standing momentarily as everyone got seated, "Let's get down to business. Agent Romanov, if you would please bring us all up to speed."

Agent Romanov placed the report she held on the table and stood to address the group.

"Approximately 12 days 22 hours ago the artifact known as the Infinity Gauntlet went missing from the vault in Asgard. You all have a brief in front of you detailing what we know so far. The vault was locked and undisturbed as reported by the sentries on guard. The gauntlet's whereabouts are currently unknown."

"And the gems? I'm not sure that everyone here understands their significance." Director Fury prompted her to continue.

"There are six Infinity Gems that can either be used alone or in conjunction with the gauntlet. They have the power to manipulate space, time, power, mind, reality, and soul respectively. According to Thor the Infinity Gems were detached from the gauntlet some time ago and distributed amongst different realms by Odin in the hopes they would be kept safe from being used together."

"Thank you, Romanov. Thor," Director Fury asked, "Do you have any more information from Asgard?"

"Yes, Director Fury. I bring news of Loki."

Murmurs and seat-shifting erupted from everyone around the table.

"Hush. Let's hear it, Thor." Fury folded his hands, listening intentely.

"Some of you know that Loki was exiled here in Midgard one year ago to live as a mortal—the Allfather wished him to understand and demonstrate compassion for others. In time Loki befriended a mortal called Rowan. They were soon to be wed and bear a child, but she was killed in an unfortunate accident. Loki took his own life to end his grief."

Thor waited for any reactions. When none came, he continued, his brow creased in thought.

"Odin resurrected Loki following his mortal death with the hope that he would reclaim his place in Asgard and show the maturity he learned while in exile. While he did reclaim his powers as an Asgardian, he has again left Asgard."

"Just what we needed, a rogue _god_." Fury huffed. "Any idea where he's gone?"

"We know not where. He was very upset over Rowan's death. Odin did not understand the depth of his despair."

"We'll deal with Loki if he becomes an issue. We have bigger fish to fry in the meantime. Let's focus on what we do know. Any leads on the gauntlet?"

Thor continued, "Asgard's contacts have heard whispers that Thanos possesses a magical glove of power. We have sent contact to the realms which hold the gems. From the messages we have received, Odin was able to determine Thanos possesses at least one gem, but possibly more. We are still awaiting contact from several sources."

Fury spoke to the rest of those in attendance, "He could make a move any moment. We need to get one of ours close enough to retrieve more information."

"Director Fury," Thor interjected quietly, which was still a boom in his deep voice. "I have another message, but it is for you alone."

"Understood. Come with me into my office." Thor and Fury rose to exit the room. "Everyone else put on your thinking caps. I want to hear ideas worth implementing when I come back."

The two of them walked back through the door under the logo. Fury closed the door behind them and motioned for Thor to take a seat, but he shook his head, opting to stand.

"So, what is this private message?" Fury stepped around behind his desk and leaned forward on both arms.

"Prior to his departure Loki requested I relay a message to you alone," Thor paused with a concentrated look, attempting to recall the message exactly. "_An eye for an eye._"

"So, it's revenge he wants." _That could be good or bad for us, depending._

Nodding, Thor agreed with the Director. "Revenge is not out of his character."

"Did he say anything about Thanos?"

"He gave no further explanation to me and left Asgard shortly thereafter."

A knock came at the door. Fury eyed the door before concluding their brief discussion.

"Was that all, Thor?"

"That is all, Director."

"Enter!" Fury called.

The door opened to admit Agent Maria Hill. Behind her Fury could see Stark gesturing wildly while Dr. Banner nodded his head slowly in thought. Captain Rogers shook his head vehemently in opposition of whatever Stark was proposing. Barton and Romanov listened quietly, but seemed to be trading glares at one another from across the table.

Hill closed the door before speaking.

"Sir, there's a voicemail for you on my phone," She looked to Thor briefly. "—from Loki."

Fury's eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise, but his tone remained serious as always. "We may have an answer straight from the horse's mouth. Play it on speaker."

Loki's icy smooth voice emanated from the phone's speaker, and indistinct yelling could be heard in the background:

_Greetings, Director Fury. The mission you offered me coincides with my desires therefore I have decided to keep you informed of my discoveries. Direct discussions may prove impossible, so watch closely for my messages. [pause] Oh, you may wish to update my current status._

Fury weighed his options quickly as he scrutinized Loki's message: _This could be very beneficial for us. But how far can we trust his information? How long will his vengeance keep him loyal to our shared goal?_

Hill was still confused. "Update it to what? We don't even know where he is."

"Not deceased, for starters." Fury pulled Loki's file from a drawer in his desk and handed it to Hill. "He'll contact us when he has more information. For now update his current status to 'Asgardian, God of Deception, S.H.I.E.L.D. Informant.'"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I sincerely apologize if my interpretation of Thanos is off in any way. I haven't read his arcs in the comics, so I did my best given the information I had available.**

**Physical descriptions of the Chitauri and Avengers were assumed for brevity. If this seems confusing, and you think I should include descriptions, let me know.**

**Thank you to all who have read (and reviewed) this story! I do not current have plans to write the sequel, but you never know what the future holds. Please don't hesitate to drop me a review or PM if you have any questions.  
**

**I have posted some notes on Loki's character progression throughout my stories on my writing blog. Please visit if you are interested: theperfectencryption . blogspot . com**


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